


Winter Heat

by JolieFolie



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blindfolds, Blow Jobs With Teeth, Bottom Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Condoms, Doggy Style, Dominant Bucky Barnes, Dubious Consent, F/M, Feels, I Blame Tumblr, Knifeplay, M/M, Multi, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Non-Consensual Spanking, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Oral Sex, Possessive Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve, Rape/Non-con Elements, Restraints, Sexual Tension, Threesome - F/M/M, Top Bucky Barnes, Up all night to get Bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-09
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-24 04:19:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 38,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1591457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JolieFolie/pseuds/JolieFolie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve drives you home after a date. Little did you know, Bucky was waiting for you in the shadows. Inspired by the scene in CA:TWS where Bucky is sitting in Pierce’s kitchen.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dark

**Author's Note:**

> There is a first-person narration version of this fic on FF.net. I originally uploaded it there as second-person but they sent me a message saying that was against policy, so I changed it. But you can see the original version here ;) Personally I think it's hotter in second-person. But the first-person option is there too. I have the same username on fanfiction.net in case that's your cup o' tea.  
> Happy reading!

“Thanks again for dinner.” You rock your weight onto your toes, moving a fraction of an inch closer to him. Steve is holding your hand outside your front door. He’s facing you and he’s close enough to kiss you, if he wanted to. It’s the perfect evening for your first kiss with him.

 

“My pleasure.” He brings your hand to his mouth and presses the back of your hand against his lips, maintaining eye contact with you. You hold your breath until he places your hand back down at your side. “Have a good night.” He gives a nod and turns to walk down the steps.

 

You try to keep the smile on your face to hide your disappointment. You knew Steve was an old-fashioned guy, but you were hoping he’d at least kiss you on the lips. If only Steve could read your mind…

 

You open your purse and dig around for your keys. When you find them, you turn your head and see Steve sitting in his car, waiting for you to enter the house before he drives away. You smile, thinking about what a sweetheart he is. You insert your key into the lock and open the door, waving to him with your free hand. He waves back and starts the engine. You enter the house, which is completely dark except for the moonlight shining through the window. After you close the door behind you, you look through the window and watch him drive away.

 

Yes, if only Steve could read your mind, he’d know how turned on you are and that you desperately need some kind of release. You sigh. _The trouble with nice boys_ _is that they play it safe. And the trouble with bad boys is they’re too much trouble. If only I could marry the nice boy and fuck the…_

“Did you have a good time?” A dark voice comes from several feet behind you.

 

You jump and whip around, your heart racing. You bring a hand to your chest and, once you determine that you aren’t dying of shock, you look for the source of the voice. A man is sitting at your kitchen table and a beam of moonlight illuminates his eyes. You squint, trying to discern his identity. He is wearing a mask over his nose and mouth and the rest of his body remains shrouded in darkness. “What are you doing in my house?” You hope he can’t smell the fear on you.

 

He remains silent but his eyes flicker, as if he knows you need an answer and is purposely withholding it from you. The silence makes you uneasy.

 

You raise your voice. “Get out, or I’m calling the cops.” You intended for your voice to come out steady, but instead it wavers and is too high, almost like you’re about to cry.

 

He slowly stands up and you notice how broad his shoulders are. Your eyes trail down his body and you notice his left arm is glinting in the moonlight, as if his sleeve is made of some shiny material. His other arm is encased in leather but you can tell it’s just as muscular. You wonder what each arm is capable of doing. What both arms are capable of doing together. You wonder how intense his workouts must be in order to maintain that kind of muscle. _Stop it,_ you tell yourself, because you realize his hands are strong enough to crush your throat. You inhale sharply, hoping the extra oxygen will help you maintain your wits.

 

As you stare at his arms, he approaches you slowly, his shoulders swaying as he saunters over to you. You’ve never seen a guy swagger quite like this before. You think it’s sexy for just a moment before pushing that thought out of your head. _There’s a crazy guy in my house, I have no idea what he’s doing here, and I’m thinking about how sexy his walk is._ You force yourself to stop staring at his upper body and instead lock eyes with him. You hope to shoot back an equal amount of dominance with your gaze – _this is my territory_ , you think – but your eyes widen. As he draws closer to you, you can see his dilated pupils, a few locks of his brown hair falling in his eyes. His hair looks like he’s just had sex on top of the roof of a ten-storey building during a hurricane. He’s standing directly in front of you now and tilting his head down to look at you, causing more of his hair to fall into his eyes. You feel an impulse to brush his hair back with your fingers, although that might be due to your slight OCD tendencies. Definitely not due to the fact that you actually might want to run your hands through his hair.

 

You don’t realize your hands are shaking until he brushes his fingertips against your hand and wraps his fingers around your wrist. You shiver; his touch is ice cold. You look down at his glinting arm. It’s solid metal. Despite the strength of his arm, his grip is gentle. You look back up at him. _It couldn’t be…?_ Your lips part slightly as you search for a name.

 

He watches you and his grip tightens. He pushes your hand down to the waistband of your jeans, where your cell phone is tucked away in your pocket. His grip is still loose, and you realize that you’re _letting_ him guide your hand. _No._ _I’m the one in control of my body,_ you think, and stiffen your arm so he can no longer guide your hand. Since his nose and mouth are masked, you focus even more intently on his eyes. He doesn’t look too pleased. You keep yourself steady, refusing to hand over your power so easily. You lift your chin, trying to look confident and not like you’re worrying about how he’ll react.

 

He turns your wrist so your palm is facing up and places the phone in your palm. “You want to call the cops, go ahead.” He speaks quietly and you can’t figure out if he’s threatening or teasing you. He lets go of your wrist, turns his back and walks to the table.

 

A part of you almost feels rejected by him turning his back to you. You lower your eyes to look at your phone but find yourself distracted by his body. He looks even taller from behind. Through his black uniform, you can tell his back is just as muscular as his arms. His waist tapers in and you hold your breath as you trail your gaze further down. You can’t help it; you check out his ass. It’s absolutely perfect, like two scoops of heaven’s ice cream. His thighs also don’t disappoint. You can’t remember the last time you thought that a man’s thighs were nice. Usually with men it’s shoulders-pecs-arms, but this man in front of you seems to have the total package. _Uh oh._ _Don’t think about his package, don’t think about his –_ You try to reel yourself back in. But his thighs… they’re the kind of thighs that could totally support your weight if you straddled him. Not that you’re thinking of straddling him. _Get it together_ , you tell yourself.

 

You press a button on your phone to light up the screen. Before your thoughts can completely run away from you, something clicks into place in your mind. You speak the name you’ve been searching for. “Bucky?”

 

He keeps his back to you, but turns his head to look at you sideways. The muscles of his neck tighten, worrying you. You scold yourself for speaking without thinking. _Did I just piss off this super-strong crazy guy?_

The moonlight reflects off the side of his face that is turned to you. “Who the hell is Bucky?”

 

“Steve told me about --”

 

He darts toward you. Before you can react, he’s got you in his arms. He slams you against the wall and you stagger back, not having nearly enough strength to compete with his force. You push your body against his, trying to make some room for yourself to breathe. If he pressed against you any harder, he’d crush your ribcage.

 

He grabs your wrists with his large hands and slams your wrists against the wall above your head. The cell phone flies out of your hands. You wince; his grip isn’t so gentle this time.

 

Your legs feel like rubber and you feel like you’re about to faint from the rapid, tiny breaths you’re taking. Your shoulders fit perfectly between his arms. “What are you --?”

 

“Shut the hell up.” There’s a glimmer in his eye, as if he’s smirking. “Or I’ll call the cops.”

 

Your face heats up. He’s too close. This is too intimate. You look up at him because it’s either that or stare directly at his pectoral muscles… _No, must maintain eye contact._

 

You curl your fingers into fists, pushing your wrists against his grip. He pushes back, keeping you secure against the wall. He’s pressing against you with his hands and upper body and he’s stooping down slightly to account for your height difference. He keeps his groin and legs away from you. Not that you’re thinking about his groin. _I have to think about how to get a hold of that phone._

 

Your heart is pounding in your chest. Or is that his heart you’re feeling? A part of you wonders if he’s nervous at all. The look in his eyes clearly says: I’m in charge _._ You take a sharp breath through your nose, catching his scent. He’s perspiring; he’s definitely excited. You inhale again, deeper. _For the oxygen. Not because he smells good._

Okay, maybe he smells good. Really good.

 

He lifts his eyebrows slightly, suggestively, and you realize he’s waiting for you to say something. You open your mouth, hoping something comes out. His eyes are blue, almost silver in this light, and his pupils are huge. Staring at them is only scrambling the words in your head. His gaze falls to your lips. You suck in your breath, feeling even more pressure to say something. You turn your head away. “What do you want?”

 

He takes his metal hand and moves it from your wrist to your palm, slowly enough to make you worry again about his intention. You squeeze your eyes shut. He intertwines his fingers with yours and brings your hand to his head. He grasps your wrist again and guides your fingers through his hair. You open your eyes and look at him. You watch your fingers move through his hair and he lets go of your wrist. You can’t peel your eyes away. You concentrate on breathing, not wanting him to detect a change in your breaths.

 

You catch a glimpse of something silver in his hand. He tosses it into the air beside him and then his hand is at your throat and you realize the glimmering silver is the blade of a knife _holy shit._ You press your head against the back of the wall as hard as you can, trying to increase the distance between your neck and the blade. You gulp and his eyes smoulder at your reaction. He presses the knife against your throat. “Don’t ask stupid questions.”

 

You whimper but, despite the pressure he’s applying, you don’t feel the blade. You look down, trying to get a better look at the knife.

 

He smirks and brings the knife up to your line of vision. The blade is facing him; the blunt end was against your neck. “Or I’ll use the other side.”

 

Your cheeks heat up as the blood comes back to your face. You scowl. He thinks he can just mess with your head and get away with it? _Now it’s my turn to mess with him._ You fist your hand in his hair, close to the root, and tug. “Should’ve used the sharp side first, Bucky.”

 

He winces ever-so-slightly before hardening his gaze and giving the knife another flip in the air. As it flies, you grab his hand, interlocking your fingers. The handle of the knife hits your shoulder before it falls on the floor. He glances down at it and then looks back at you. You brace yourself, anticipating his fury.

 

Instead, his eyes crinkle. He uses one hand to rip the mask away from his face, revealing his smile and perfectly white teeth. He trails his hands down your sides, resting them at your waist. With your hands free now, you graze them up his arms, feeling your right hand losing heat and your left hand warming up. The combination of metal and flesh is foreign and you know you shouldn’t like it. You bite your lip and your hands find their way up to his shoulders.

 

He leans in closer. “You’re my kind of girl.”

 

“I’m --?”

 

He thrusts his face towards you and presses his mouth against yours. His lips are warm from being under the mask and his tongue is even hotter. He licks your lips until you open your mouth ever so slightly and his tongue enters you, overwhelming you. His hands run up and down your back, his fingertips light at first, until he flattens his palms against you and applies more pressure with his caresses. You run your thumbs over his jawline and lean your pelvis towards him, trying to close the remaining space between your bodies.

 

He pulls his head away. You try to pull him back, tugging his hair again and breathing out, frustrated. His voice is husky. “Why did you go out with him?”

 

You open your eyes and are met with his shocking blue eyes, his pupils two massive dark holes. “I don’t under—”

 

“Why him?” His hands tighten around your waist. His brow furrows, casting a shadow over his eyes.

 

“Steve? He asked me.”

 

“And what if I asked you?”

 

You blink. _Well, I’ve never dated two guys at once_ , you want to say, but bite your lip. Better to maintain some mystery. “I…”

 

He runs his hands up your back, pulling you away from the wall and into his chest. “Would you say yes?”

 

Your lips part. He stares at your mouth and his brow unfurrows. Despite his leather uniform, he looks so vulnerable. His hair is mussed up and he’s got puppy-dog eyes, which is pretty much your kryptonite. You always found it so hard to say no to guys with nice eyes. You feel your mouth begin to say _yes…_

Wait a sec. “If you wanted to date me, why did you break into my house?”

 

His lips are soft, but he somehow manages to make his mouth harden. “I just want to know if you’d say yes.”

 

“But then --”

 

“I don’t want you to be his best girl. I want you to be mine.”

 

You open your mouth to protest, but he kisses you again, cutting you off. You exhale sharply through your nose. Could this guy be any more frustrating?

 

The ends of his hair tickle your cheeks. You run your hands over his shoulders, in awe of just how broad and hard they are. You could sit on them and there would still probably be room left for a friend. Not that you’d let a friend sit on his shoulders. _Am I being possessive of him?_ He’s kissing you as if he possesses you; maybe it’s rubbing off.

 

As if to draw your attention back to him, he bites your lower lip.

 

You gasp, but his tongue is in your mouth again and he doesn’t leave you any time to focus on the pain. _I can date two guys at once. I only had one date with Steve and he didn’t kiss me on the lips. And I’m just kissing Bucky, it’s not like we’re going all the way…_

You imagine his uniform on the floor, and him completely -- _No, we’re keeping our clothes on._

 

He breaks away from your lips, only to trail kisses down your jawline to your ear, pausing to breathe into your ear, and then kisses slowly down your neck. You release a moan just as he decides to sink his teeth into your neck, and your moan turns into a shriek.

 

He presses his mouth against your ear. He breathes out once through his mouth. “You’ll wake the neighbors.”

 

You flip his teasing tone right back at him. “I don’t have neighbors.”

 

“Well then.” He licks the inside of your ear and grabs your ass, hoisting you into the air and against his pelvis. He slides his hands to support your thighs, wrapping them around his waist. You shriek, your eyebrows rising as you feel just how supportive his hands are. You hold onto his shoulders and press your chest against him so you don’t topple backwards. He is so much taller than you, it feels a little strange and slightly exhilarating to be up this high.

 

He carries you over to the living room, which is just as dark as the kitchen. You hope he doesn’t trip over anything. Your mind is racing. _Okay,_ I’ll _keep my clothes on._

He lays you down on the couch, with your head resting on the pillow right by the arm of the couch. He sits between your legs, his back to the window and the moonlight casting a silhouette of his wild hair and huge arms. His hands fly to the waistband of your jeans and his metal fingers click against the button of your fly as he unzips you. He peels your jeans off, turning them inside out as he pulls them off your legs.

 

You raise your head. “Leave my underwear on.”

 

He smiles with his eyes, as if to say, _yeah right._ His right hand is caressing your thigh, making it hard to think. He takes one finger of his left hand and slips it under the hem of your underwear, where your leg meets your pelvis. You shiver, the metal cold against your overheated skin. He rubs your thigh with his right hand and throws your leg onto his shoulder. He turns his face to kiss your calf. He makes eye contact with you, and then slowly brings out his tongue.

 

Your lips part as you watch him lick your skin. The way he’s using his tongue against your calf is way too suggestive, as if he’s trying to tell you, _are you sure you want to leave your underwear on?_ You heard once that the tongue is the strongest muscle in the body, and that’s a little hard to believe when it comes to Bucky, but watching him work his tongue – the way he curls it, vibrates it – makes you wonder what that tongue would feel like against other parts of your body. Not that there are any in particular.

 

You want to close your eyes to give yourself a chance to clear your head, but he’s making it so hard to look away. His metal hand is lightly following the line of your underwear along your hip, close enough to make you sigh, but not close enough to the part you’re dying for him to touch.

 

You close your eyes. If Steve asked you out again, would this count as cheating? Would you have to tell him? Would you have to tell Bucky that you told him? You bury your hands in your hair. It was hard to think straight when you had a cyborg in your pants.

 

The doorbell rings, jarring you out of your thoughts.

 

You sit up, drawing your leg away from his mouth. You put your hands on the leather straps of his uniform. “I have to get that.”

 

“No you don’t.” He grabs you around the waist and pulls you onto his pelvis, holding you there as he turns and sits back against the couch. He grabs your legs and positions them so you’re straddling him. His thighs are just as hard and muscular as you imagined they’d be. He grabs your ass and bounces you a few times, his biceps contracting, making his arms swell even more. He keeps his eyes locked on yours as he unbuckles the straps around his chest and tosses them beside the couch, then reaches behind his neck to unfasten the leather vest.

 

Now that he’s stripping his clothes off, you have to muster all your strength to say, “What if it’s Steve?”

 

He whips off the vest so forcefully it slaps against the ground. He growls and bites your neck.

    

You gasp and push against his chest with your hands, tearing your neck away even though it hurts. “Let me go.”

 

To your surprise, he releases you. You jump off his lap and race to the door, pushing aside the curtain and peeking out the window. You see Steve standing on the steps and he looks at you, smiling. You reach for the door handle.

 

Suddenly you feel your back slam against the door. Bucky grips your waist and pins you against the door. “Hey,” you shout.

 

He grins at you before kissing you again, dominating your lips.

 

You hear Steve on the other side of the door. “Hey, I forgot something.”

 

You manage to tear your mouth away from Bucky. You’re panting, struggling to catch your breath. “I’m --”

 

He clasps a hand over your mouth and slams you up against the door again. His eyes flash with a warning. He supports your ass with his metal arm and brings his other hand underneath you to tease you through the fabric of your underwear. You grab onto his metal arm, in awe that he’s actually able to keep you steady with one arm.

 

Steve knocks on the door. “Are you okay?”

 

Bucky’s hand slips between your underwear and your skin. You sigh, until his finger strokes your most sensitive spot. You squeeze your eyes shut. “Yes.”

 

“Can I come in?”

 

You feel soft lips against your ear. “No,” Bucky murmurs.

 

His fingers are driving you crazy. You pull his turtleneck away from his throat and kiss the skin between his jaw and shoulder. His neck smells dark and spicy, just like the rest of him, and tastes even better. You pull his shirt up and spread your fingers wide, trying to feel as much of the mountains and valleys of his abdominal muscles as possible. Holy shit, does his abdomen turn you on. You run your hands over him like you have taste buds in your fingertips and your hands are starving.

You squeeze your thighs around his waist, your muscles tensing as his fingers coax you faster. You moan and lay your head back against the door, leaving your neck open for him to dive in and practically tear your flesh apart with his teeth. You sigh again. “Yes.”

 

“You want to unlock the door, please?”

 

“Just a --” You manage to say, before Bucky’s fingers become overwhelming. He slams you against the door again and slips a finger inside you, eliciting a moan from a place you didn’t know you had. He moves his mouth so he’s sucking on your neck between your clavicles.

 

It’s too much. You fist your hands in his hair and tug, frustrated at him for doing this to you. He slips another finger inside you and it’s enough to break you. You fall apart in his arms. He kisses you up your neck and along your jawline until he reaches your mouth and fastens his lips against yours.

 

When your body finally relaxes, he keeps you secure in his arms, still pinned against the door. You rest your head on his shoulder and close your eyes.

 

“What in the world? Is that Bucky?”

 

Your eyelids snap open. Steve has his face pressed against the outside of the window, straining his neck to look sideways at the two of you. His mouth is open, his eyes hurt, as if he’s trying so hard to convince himself he’s hallucinating.

 

You curse and bury your face in Bucky’s neck. _I’m a horrible person._ You straighten your legs and wiggle free from his grasp.

 

He sets you down and stands directly in front of the window, pushing the curtain back the entire way. He straightens his back and throws his shoulders back, as if he’s trying to look bigger than Steve. “She’s my best girl now.”

 

You stand there, a part of you feeling humiliated and ashamed. Another part of you feels turned on, watching Bucky become possessive of you. You duck your head and peer up at him. When he looks at you, you try your best not to smile, but it’s no use.

 

He smirks back at you. He takes you into his arms and picks you up, carrying you into the living room. “Let’s finish this.”


	2. Twisted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the wonderful, encouraging comments! I live to entertain, so I couldn't help but pump out a second chapter to this. I love you guys :3
> 
> So... I kind of surprised myself with this chapter. Okay, really surprised myself. I added the tags concerning the rape/noncon for this chapter, just to be safe. Oh, and the threesome tags. Consider yourself warned (or excited, you sick fuck)! :D

Bucky slams you against the wall, his hands supporting your ass. “I finished you. Now you finish me.” He forces his mouth onto yours, his bottom teeth scraping your lip. He groans, as if devouring you is filling a deep hunger.

 

You can’t get Steve’s hurt face out of your mind. You turn your face away. “No.”

 

His shoulder muscles tense. You gulp, wondering if it might’ve been a bad idea to argue with a trained killer. Your eyes dart to his knife on the floor.

 

He lets go of you and walks away. You try to put your legs underneath you to land on your feet, but you only manage to get one foot on the ground. You fall on your ass, your face heating up. As you stand, your embarrassment turns to anger. He thinks he can just drop you like that? “Hey --”

 

He grabs your wrists with one hand and yanks them over your head. He holds the knife to your neck. Like he’s teasing you with a feather, he draws the blade across your neck.

 

Your heart races and you feel pressure under your skin, as if your blood is rushing too forcefully for your vessels to handle. He’s standing over you with his feet wide apart, as if he’s showing off his package while dominating as much floor space as possible. You wonder if you should kick him in the balls. Part of you wants to defend yourself, but the other part of you wants to scream, _take me, please._

 

This shouldn’t feel good.

 

He pushes down on your wrists. “On your knees.”

 

 “Wait --” He presses the blade into your neck and you cry out, your face crumpling.

 

He forces his mouth onto yours, his tongue fighting through your teeth. You feel a ripple through your body, like he’s spreading warm butter all over you. He pushes his head down and, when your legs buckle, he forces you to kneel.

 

His mouth breaks away and you lift your face, trying to reconnect the kiss. He smirks at your expression and stands upright. He bends your arms back, causing you to wince and your chest to stick out. His eyelids lower behind a few stray locks of hair. You look down and realize your nipples are standing so erect, they may as well be soldiers in Antarctica. You look back up at him and see his lips part slightly, as if he’s thinking of licking each of them slowly with just the tip of his tongue…

 

You squeeze your eyes shut, reminding yourself that you have no idea what this man is thinking and that you’re the one visualizing this. _He’s got a knife to my neck and I’m fantasizing about him sucking on my clit? I mean, my nipples. There’s no way I’d let his teeth anywhere near my –_

 

He chuckles but it’s so deep it’s almost a growl. “You’re sweating, doll. Do I make you nervous?” He removes the knife from your neck and there’s a drop of clear fluid on it. You breathe out, grateful it’s not red. He brings the knife to his lips and his tongue snakes out. He licks the flat side of the knife, slowly, keeping his eyes locked on yours.

 

_Why does he want to taste my sweat? What a freak…_

He winces and his shoulders twitch. He jerks the knife away from his mouth. You see a tiny smudge of blood on the blade. You flinch, as if it was your own tongue that was cut. Judging by the way he’s staring at the knife, you guess he didn’t mean to do that. “Bucky, are you okay?” Your voice comes out soft. _Why do I care if he’s hurt? He almost broke the skin on my throat._

He lifts his chin, as if he’s offended by your concern. He lowers the knife to your lips. “Aren’t you dying to taste me?” You expect him to smirk, but instead his eyes are dead, his mouth a flat line.

 

You press your lips together.

 

He squeezes your wrists even harder, cutting off the circulation. You gasp and his eyes widen for just a second, as if he feels your pain too, only he’s sucking some sort of twisted pleasure from it.

 

You don’t want to piss him off, so you tap the tip of your tongue against the knife. The bitter coppery taste contorts your mouth. You try to hide your disgust from him, in case he’s planning to punish you if you don’t like it. You wonder whether Bucky really wants you as his best girl, or whether he just wants a girl to toy with. Steve would never do something like this. Your chest feels heavy, thinking about Steve, his cute face.

He smirks and cocks his head, like your reaction is a joke to him. “I didn’t expect you to like that. But I have something sweeter for you.”

 

You hear a crash outside. “What was that?”

 

Bucky lets go of your wrists and bolts towards the door. “Stay here.”

 

You chase after him. “No, you stay. I’m going.”

 

He pins your hands behind your back and pushes you face-forward against the door. He grinds his leather-encased package against your ass. One of your ears is crushed against the door. Bucky growls into your other ear, “I’ll let you leave, if you promise me one thing.”

 

You huff, frustrated and also desperate for air; he’s pushing against you so hard, every bone in your ribcage is against the door.

 

He trails his hands to your shoulders and turns you around to face him. When he sees the look in your eyes, he gently cups your jaw, the pads of his fingers almost tickling under your earlobe. His eyes remind you of the time you set a marshmallow on fire and watched it melt under a blue flame. His eyelashes are too soft to belong to a soldier. “Promise you’ll come back to me.”

 

Your heart skips a beat. _How can he be threatening me one moment and pleading with me the next?_ He’s wearing armor but, with eyes like that, he’s as good as naked.  

 

He furrows his brows and pushes his hands to the back of your head, his fingers weaving through your hair. You shiver from the touch of his metal hand and turn your cheek towards his bare right hand. His touch is gentle, but he was rough just a second ago, and there’s no telling when he might flip again.

 

Your mouth opens and, when his eyebrows dart up for a nanosecond, you realize you’ve said yes.

 

* * *

 

Steve is sitting on the trunk of his car, his head bowed and his shoulders shaking. He’s not in the driver’s seat because his car is crashed into a tree. “You don’t have to be sorry.” He doesn’t look hurt, until he looks up at you and you can see he’s broken in ways you can only hope to fix.

 

The guilt is like a brick on your chest. _The crash is my fault; if he wasn’t upset, he wouldn’t have driven into the tree._ “Are you okay? You’ve got powder all over…” You wonder if he’s mad at you. No, you hope he’s mad at you, because if he forgives you then it’ll only make you feel guiltier. _But should I feel guilty? He could have kissed me, or even taken me home…_ You blush, thinking about Bucky, the man who did what Steve couldn’t do. _Although Bucky came to my house, so I guess he’s kind of a gentleman –_ Wait a sec, Bucky more of a gentleman than Steve?

“I’m better now.” He looks up at you with a ghost of a smile and one eyebrow a tiny bit higher than the other. Only a man as decent as Steve Rogers could smile after crashing his car. Part of you feels you don’t deserve how nice he’s being, and you’re not sure if that’s because you're mentally undressing Bucky as you stare at Steve. _I’m standing in front of the man I’ve had a crush on since forever, and I’m fantasizing about the guy who broke into my house?_ This isn’t doing much to assuage your guilt.

“I should call a cab.” He sounds exhausted.

 

“Let me pay for it.” Your wallet is in the house, but you’re desperate for a way to redeem yourself.

 

“You’re sweet, but I can’t let you do that.” He takes your hands in his and stands up. Both of his hands are warm, and his grasp is reassuring. “I came back because I forgot to give you something.”

 

You look at the house, your eyes wide and questioning. With two fingers, he guides your chin back to face him. He leans down, pulling your hands towards him. He’s so cute, and your head fills with reasons why you’ve never been able to stop crushing on him. Most guys would be freaking out if their car got totalled, but somehow Steve manages to make you feel like you’re the most important thing to him.

 

Your breath catches in your throat as his lips come closer to your face. He doesn’t look like he’s going to kiss your hand this time. You’re grateful that his eyes are closed because you’re smiling so hard.

 

As soon as you close your eyes, you feel his hands rip out of yours.

 

A blur of black and silver rushes by. Bucky’s hands are on Steve’s shoulders, pushing him against the car.

 

You always wanted to be the kind of girl that guys fought over, but not like this. Not if it means someone could get killed. You’re frozen in place, part of you wanting to launch yourself between them and part of you wanting to pull Bucky off of Steve. You don’t want to get hurt, and both Bucky and Steve are incredibly strong. Bucky’s knee is on the car beside Steve’s hips; his back is facing you and his pants are pulled taut across his muscular ass. Steve’s just wearing a t-shirt, the sleeves of which look like they’re about to split apart at any second from his straining biceps. _I have to do something._

 

The metal hand is too close to Steve’s throat. “I don’t want to fight,” Steve says.

 

“Then don’t touch my best girl.” Bucky is wearing his shirt and mask again. He must have put them on before he left, as if he was afraid to go outside without his armor. Although it’s hard to imagine Bucky being afraid of anything, especially with the knife in his – Oh, fuck.

 

“She’s not your property.”

 

Although it’s kind of thrilling to watch them fight, you want to scream at Steve to stop. You know how Bucky reacts when you argue with him, and you’re a girl; you don’t want to think about how Bucky would react to someone he doesn’t want to fuck arguing with him. _Imagine if he did want to fuck him._ No, that would be ludicrous. Although their crotches are awfully close to each other.

 

Bucky flips the knife in the air, maintaining eye contact with Steve. Damn, he’s good.

 

Oh right, the knife. Adrenaline boosting your courage, you grab Bucky’s arm. You try to pry the knife away, and wonder why he leaves his hand uncovered. Same with his head – you’d think his enemies would just pull his hair. Or maybe he’s into that. _I should not be thinking about his possible turn-ons at a time like this._ “Bucky, please.”

 

He glances at you. “Say that again when I’m on top of you.”

 

Surprised, you loosen your grip for only a moment, but it’s enough time for him to rip his hand away from you.

 

It’s also enough time for Steve to punch Bucky in the face. “Is that any way to talk to a lady?”

 

You wince. You know Bucky kind of deserved it for starting the fight, but it hurts to see him get punched. You put your hands on either side of his face. You can tell by his eyes, he’s got his guard up. You scramble to think of something to say to put an end to the violence.

 

Bucky wipes his lip and looks at Steve. “You always get what you want.”

 

“Not always.” Steve glances down. You follow his gaze. He’s not looking at Bucky’s crotch, is he? He looks at you before you can be sure. “I want you to be happy, even if that means you choose Bucky over me. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

 

 _But I do want you._ You want so desperately to tell Steve how you feel, but you’re scared of provoking Bucky’s jealousy. Your voice comes out tiny. “I don’t want to have to choose.”

 

“And you don’t. You’re mine.” Bucky grabs your waist and pulls you in. You try to maintain your distance, to show Steve you’re not taking sides, but his arms are too strong; you collide into Bucky’s firm body and stay there.

 

Steve looks down. He’s trying to keep his composure, but you know that look on his face. He made the same look at the movie you saw on your date, the scene near the end where the hero’s mother dies. Of course, you were bawling, so he put his arm around you and was strong enough for both of you. You feel a flutter in your stomach as you recall how safe you felt in his arms. Now, in Bucky’s arms, you don’t exactly feel safe, but you do need clean underwear.

 

“Let the lady decide for herself.” Steve shoots you a look: _are you okay?_

Steve’s gaze is so soft, but Bucky is pressing your body into his and you can smell his dark and delicious scent. It’s too much pressure; you’re too insanely attracted to both men, and for totally different reasons. _I don’t want anyone to get hurt._ Your vision goes blurry and your eyes burn. You try to rip yourself away from Bucky’s grasp. “Then neither.”

 

“Let her go, Bucky.”

 

Bucky glares at Steve and hoists you over his shoulder. He makes sure you’re secure before taking off towards the house. You feel dizzy and want your feet on the ground, but you hang on to his waist so you don’t fall.

 

“Buck -- Steve,” you scream, your heart speaking first and your brain taking over too late.

 

* * *

 

“’Neither’? I never want to hear that again.”

 

You open your mouth, but he doesn’t give you a chance to explain. Bucky dominates your lips, his mouth wet and hungry. His hands roam your body, pinching your nipple, squeezing your ass, messing up your hair. You don’t know how to escape; he moves too fast, too forcefully.

 

You’re moaning and you probably sound like you’re in pain, because you hear Steve’s concerned voice through the window. “I knew she wasn’t safe with you.”

 

“Safety is overrated.” Bucky picks you up and sets you down so your back is against the full-length window of your living room. He rips off your shirt so quickly, the fabric almost burns your skin. You scream and try to cover yourself with one hand and tug the curtain shut with the other.

 

Bucky rips the curtain down from the rod. The rod falls down too and he covers your head with both his arms so it doesn’t hit you. He kicks the curtain and rod away and cups your jaw and kisses you softly. You whimper into his mouth, exhausted and confused. _It’s like he can’t stand to watch me get hurt unless he’s directly causing it. If only he was protective of me all the time…_

“On your knees.” Bucky pushes you down and you stumble, turning your head around to try and catch a glimpse of Steve.

 

Steve’s eyes and mouth are wide, as if someone pulled the alarm in his body. He shoots over to the door. “Stop.” He bangs and pulls on the door, sending vibrations through the house. You jump, surprised; Steve’s kind nature sometimes makes you forget how strong he is.

 

Bucky tugs your hair by the root, redirecting your attention. His fly is undone and an incredibly thick, long, veiny cock is protruding like it’s about to take over the world. “Your lips drive me crazy,” he murmurs. He’s got puppy-dog eyes again.

 

 _What the hell?_ His pupils are so huge, there’s only a sliver of blue around them. He lets go of your hair and you flinch, anticipating his harsh grasp on your jaw or neck.

 

“You’re my best girl, but I don’t want to hurt you. I just need to know you’re mine.” He wraps his hands around his cock. His large hands are only just able to fit the circumference. Staring at you, he starts rubbing his shaft and groaning.

 

You furrow your brows. “Wait. Bucky.”

 

The pounding at the door is getting louder. You hear wood splinter.

 

You can’t believe a gorgeous man like Bucky is jerking himself off. It’s thrilling but confusing; all you’re doing is kneeling, you’re not even touching him. You bring your face forward, biting your lip, as if drawn to his power.

 

He licks the sweat from his upper lip. “You don’t have to.”

 

You put a hand on Bucky’s metal hand, part of your hand touching his cock. The contrast of temperatures almost burns your hand. “I want to.” You gulp, intimidated by his size. Your hands start to shake as you bring your tongue out; he grabs your hands, but that doesn’t stop the shaking.

 

The head of his cock is enough to choke you. Do you dare?

 

You breathe in and graze the tip of your tongue along his shaft. He lets out a moan, making you jump a little at his overreaction to such a small gesture. His eyelashes fringe his captive blue eyes and his lips are flushed, soft, yielding. He’s too beautiful.

 

You lick him again, slowly, then suck on his tip. You can hear Steve shouting from behind the door; he’s getting louder. His shouts blend with Bucky’s moans. Bucky’s knees buckle and you rip your hands away from his so you can hang on to his thighs. _Wow._ They are so hard and muscular, you have to keep your eyes open to convince yourself they’re not metal too.

 

You open your mouth as wide you can, trying to fit him inside you. Your teeth scrape against him and you check his expression. The corner of his mouth twitches and you can’t be sure if that irritated him or whether he… enjoyed it?

 

The only way you’re going to get more than just his tip inside your mouth is if you get a little rough. You force his cock another inch inside your mouth, hoping he doesn’t mind your teeth. Bucky throws his head back and leans his palm against the wall.

 

A husky voice calls your name, but it’s not the voice you expect. The door slams against the floor and Steve bursts through. “What are you doing to her?”

 

Bucky is groaning erratically, too caught up to pay attention. You feel his cock rip out of your mouth. Steve pushes Bucky against the wall.

 

“Stop! Steve, it was my choice.”

 

Bucky shoves Steve off of him.

 

“No more fighting -- please.” Your tone of voice must have sounded more desperate than you planned, because both men look at you.

 

Steve looks down. “Excuse me.” He heads into the hallway.

 

Bucky leans against the wall and rubs his shaft, keeping his erection massive. “You are perfect,” he says to you, like it’s his dying breath.

 

Your mouth is watering just staring at him, but you remember the look on Steve’s face and your heart squeezes. You leap up and follow him down the hallway.

 

There’s a sliver of light coming from underneath the bathroom door. You knock, calling his name. You try the door handle; it’s not locked. “I’m so sorry, I --”

 

His pants are around his ankles and his hands are wrapped around his – Oh, wow. You lips part as your gaze trails up his body, finally resting on his face.

 

Steve tries to cover himself, but then lets his hands rest by his sides. His erection stands proud, despite the shame on his face. “I hate what he’s doing to you, but I saw you -- like that -- like this, and I…”

 

You step inside the bathroom. “I like you so much.”

 

“I like you too. I’ve liked you ever since I first saw you.”

 

“Really?”

 

He takes your hand and tilts your chin up. “Yes.” He draws his face closer and, finally, your lips connect. He kisses you as if you’re made of glass and he’d give his life before letting you shatter. He breathes your name. “I don’t care what any other guy says, you’re meant to be my best girl. I’ll do anything for you, whatever it takes, to keep you by my side.”

 

“Anything?”

 

You whip your head around at the husky voice. Bucky is looming in the doorway, his brows furrowed so strongly that his eyes are brooding under the shadows. He huffs, the hair in front of his face jumping away from his mouth. He clenches his fists and his biceps swell. He glares at Steve. “Strip.”

 

“No.”

 

Bucky grabs you and presses the knife against your throat. “Come again, Captain?”

 

Steve clenches his jaw. He glances at you, an apology, and steps out of his pants and pulls off his shirt.

 

“In the shower.”

 

Steve hesitates. Bucky presses the knife into your neck and you whimper.

 

“I heard you.” Steve steps into the shower.

 

Bucky gestures for him to turn on the faucet.

 

Steve holds his chin high and stays still.

 

Bucky kisses your cheek, staring at him.

 

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to think about anything other than the stinging of the blade against your skin. If you moved a fraction, the blade would cut even deeper. You try to keep yourself still, although you’re legs are shaking. You’d collapse if it wasn’t for Bucky’s firm hold on you.

 

The room is silent until Steve turns on the shower. The water ripples down his shoulders, pooling in the hollows above his clavicles, and down his abdomen, droplets clinging to the hairs on his chest, on the trail leading to his…

 

You look away, knowing you shouldn’t be aroused. _Am I sadistic?_ You hate Bucky for forcing you into this.

 

“It’s been a while since you ate. Are you hungry, Captain?” Bucky steps toward the shower, dragging you with him. You grip his forearms, trying to keep yourself steady. “Lick it. Just once. And I’ll let her go.”

 

“Do you promise?”

 

A slow smile creeps across Bucky’s face, his eyes still shrouded.

 

Steve kneels, keeping his chin high.

 

Bucky turns his face to you. “Tell him how you want it, doll.”

 

“What? But I don’t --”

 

“Slow?” He trails one hand up and down your spine, making you shiver. “Or fast?”

 

He tugs your hair and you whimper. You can’t look at Steve or you’ll cry.

 

Bucky pushes his erection in front of Steve’s face. “Slow.”

 

Steve squeezes his eyes shut. “Just once.”

 

Bucky nods.

 

 _Don’t do it_ , you want to scream. His arms are like iron bars around you. The air cools your neck; your skin is damp and you’re not sure if it’s sweat or blood.

 

Bucky’s cock still has traces of your saliva. Steve brings his face forward and licks it, slowly, in the exact line your tongue made only minutes ago.

 

Bucky sighs, his grip on you softening. You bury your face in his neck and breathe in, his scent saltier from his fresh perspiration. You can feel his pulse, rapid, in his neck.

 

“You like that, doll? What kind of beau would I be if I didn’t please my best girl?” He buries his lips in your hair, inhaling through his nose. He looks at Steve. “Again.”

 

The knife is half an inch away from your neck. Steve makes eye contact with you, his hard gaze cracking for only a moment when he sees the look in your eyes. He licks the other side of Bucky’s cock, even slower this time. Your face flushes, embarrassed for Steve, angry at Bucky, and guilty for feeling turned on.

 

Bucky’s cock twitches. You wonder which part of this Bucky is getting most turned on from: forcing Steve to lick him, or forcing you to watch. _But it’s my choice to keep my eyes open._ You shut your eyes, almost from a sense of duty. Or denial.

 

“Use your hands. Keep going.”

 

“No.”

 

You feel the knife against your neck again and you cry out.

 

“Stop! Okay.”

 

Bucky smirks at him.

 

Steve inhales, his chest puffing out. He takes hold of Bucky’s balls and opens his mouth, enveloping him, taking him deeper into his mouth than you ever could. Your jaw drops as most of Bucky’s cock disappears inside Steve’s mouth.

 

“I just said put your hands on it.”

 

Steve rips his mouth away, a string of saliva still joining them. “But this is what you want, isn’t it?”

 

“You’ll know exactly what I want, because I’ll always tell you. Hold this.” Bucky passes the knife to Steve. “Keep going.” He keeps one arm around you and brings his metal hand to your crotch. He rubs you over your underwear until you moan, and then slips his hand underneath the fabric.

 

Steve stares at you, his cheeks red. As you tilt your head into Bucky, you watch Steve’s erection grow in his lap. _You’ve got the knife, now save yourself_ , you try to tell him with your eyes.

 

“I’d do anything for you,” Steve says, his eyes closed. His mouth engulfs Bucky’s cock again.

 

Bucky’s fingers are cold but the way he moves them unpredictably, teasingly, cruelly, causes you to produce more heat than he could ever suck from you. You collapse into him, too weakened to support yourself as his sensual powers consume you. “Bucky,” you say, and you realize you only mouthed his name when you hear Steve utter the same thing at the exact same time.

 

Bucky’s hand grips your jaw, forcing your face onto his. He fastens his lips against yours and he pants into your mouth. He groans and uses his tongue to kill your hope of ever forgiving yourself.

 

You don’t realize how many of his fingers were inside you until he pulls them out and you whimper, still starving. His three fingers glisten and he lowers them to Steve. Steve gazes at you with heavy eyelids as he sucks each metal finger. Bucky licks the sweat from your temple, smiling as you sigh. You turn to kiss him, and this time it’s you who dominates Bucky.

 

Bucky pulls away from you. “Watch.” He pulls his cock out of Steve’s mouth and groans loudly, releasing a tidal wave of energy onto Steve’s face. You turn your head into Bucky’s neck, horrified at first, then peek. Steve has his eyes closed and an incredible amount of white fluid is coating his lips, his nose, his eyebrows. Once you peek, you can’t look away; it’s grotesque but riveting, like a car crash. You lower your gaze and see Steve’s erection refusing to quit. It’s almost as big as Bucky’s, but it looks just as delicious – perhaps more so, because you have yet to taste it, and the unknown is the best spice of all.

 

“Clean yourself up.” Bucky pushes Steve’s head into the shower stream, caressing his hair before releasing him. He hoists you into his arms, your body weak and yielding. “Now you’re all mine.” He carries you out of the bathroom and you can only guess where he’s headed.


	3. Pleasure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for the awesome comments, bookmarks, and encouragement! I agree that there isn't a lot of Bucky/Reader smut out there (at least, not as much compared to Loki, haha, so maybe I'm just a spoiled Hiddlestoner. By the way, what are Sebastian's fangirls called? Stangirls? I don't know). I've been reading a lot of Stucky porn in attempt to sate my appetite but, alas, there's just something special about being able to insert yourself into the story.
> 
> Oh, also, there are quite a lot of gifs and photos on tumblr that inspired certain visuals in this chapter. Particularly one with Sebastian sitting with his knees so far apart from each other you'd think they were enemies. Hoooly fuck...
> 
> Okay, I'll stop perving it up now. On with your scheduling programming.

Bucky kisses your clit through your underwear. His fingers are on your waistband, folding it down way too slowly. He’s teasing you on purpose. He licks the skin he reveals, maintaining eye contact with you through stray locks of hair, watching your every twitch and sigh.

 

You huff and thrust your pelvis into him. “Bucky, please.”

 

His hands push your pelvis down onto the bed. His eyes narrow and his lower lip pouts out, partly revealing his lower teeth.

 

Your stomach flips. You remember how, only an hour ago, you were on your couch, desperate to keep your clothes on. Now, although you’re dying for him to rip your underwear off with his teeth, you’re worrying what he’s thinking. _What if he thinks my vagina’s ugly? What if he thinks I smell weird?_

You try to do a mental calculation of how many hours it’s been since you showered.

 

Bucky digs his nails into your ass, yanking your attention back to him. He peels your underwear off. It’s soaked through. _Oh my God, it’s so much._ Your chest flushes and the heat spreads all the way to your face.

He rolls the fabric down your legs, watching you grow frustrated. His smirk broadens. You’re completely exposed to him; you can’t help but feel self-conscious. He’s so perfect, so muscular... _I should’ve gone to yoga this morning._ He lowers his face to your crotch. Bucky is definitely the most gorgeous man that’s ever come this close to you. Your throat tightens. _Why did he choose me, when he can have anyone?_

 

He slips your underwear off your legs. He kisses the inside of your ankles, then the insteps of your feet. His soft lips tickle and you erupt in giggles. His eyes flicker open, his lids heavy, and the corner of his mouth twitches. He licks your feet, the tip of his tongue tickling.

 

“Don’t,” you gasp, but he continues, torturing you. _I wish he would say something._ Usually you attract guys who can’t shut the fuck up; it’s strange to be seduced by someone so quiet. _Should I keep talking, or does he want me to be quiet too?_ The uncertainty twists another knot in your stomach.

 

You stare at his eyes, pleading with him. He holds your gaze, kissing up your leg, until he drops his forehead down and his hair shrouds his eyes. The tip of his nose traces the crease between your thigh and crotch.

 

You shiver, your body flipping between relaxing and tensing. You need to hear him speak. “Bucky --”

 

He licks up your pussy. You cry out, your thighs tensing around his head. He grabs them and presses them against his ears, as if he’s trying to block out the moonlight and drown in you.

 

You grab his hair with one hand and grip the pillow with your other hand. “God, fuck me, please.”

He growls, sending vibrations through your center. He trails his hands up your legs – his metal hand choking your leg and the tips of his human fingers dancing lightly – and grabs your calves. He opens your legs and pushes them forward, controlling the angle at which he eats you and giving you a better view. His pink mouth, slick and hot, sucks your clit. You’re caught between whimpering and screaming; your lungs don’t know what to do either, and you feel faint. He massages his hands down your thighs, melting your tension.

 

And then his nails bite into your flesh. You gasp. It’s painful and delicious. “Yes. Bucky.” You can’t stop saying his name; it’s the only way you can convince your lungs to draw in what you need.

 

He murmurs into you, the vibrations matching your name. He slips his hands under your ass, pressing you against his face. He is completely absorbed in you, as if he doesn't give a fuck about air. _Fuck, he’s beautiful._

You don’t realize how far you’ve floated away until he lifts his head up. He sucks in a breath like it’s his first in years. His gaze caresses you, slinking up your body and locking on your eyes. He kisses the inside of your thigh and then sweeps his eyelashes over the ghost of his lip print. “I’m going to make you come harder than you’ve ever come before. And then I want your lips around my cock. Can you do that for me, doll?”

 

The first full fucking sentence and it had to be that. You grab his hair and push him back down between your legs. “Yes, Sergeant.”

 

He keeps his eyes open this time, watching your back arch, your face crumple. The soft tissue of your breasts yields to his caresses. He eats you until you lose control of your body, to the point where weaving your hands through his hair is an impossible task. You sink into the bed, completely passive, and this feeds him even more; his ass clenches and he growls, deeper this time. He grips you not only with his hands but with his passionate concentration. You feel like the only people in the world, which isn’t such a lonely feeling after all.

 

“Bucky, God, yes.” Your head is swirling. You scream, releasing yourself.

  
He drinks you in. His tongue licks you clean, slowly, like he’s reluctant to erase the evidence of what he does to you, but you’re too delicious for him not to taste his work.

 

He doesn't let you bask in your post-orgasm glow. He picks you up and sets you on the floor, on your knees, which seems to be his favorite way to see you. The blood drains from your head and you feel dizzy; you try to stay upright. He swings his legs over the edge of the bed. You grip his knees and you might have pushed them apart, or maybe he splayed them apart himself? Your motions are starting to sync with his.

 

He unleashes himself from his pants. “Put your mouth on my cock. Don’t stop till I tell you.”

 

You wrap your fingers around his thick length. There’s already pre-come in his slit. Bringing you to orgasm got him more than ready for you. And you’re so ready for him. “Bucky, I will suck this cock till it falls off your body.”

 

“Well, I might tell you to stop before that happens.”

 

You can’t bring yourself to tease him. Or, rather, yourself. You launch yourself forward, your whole body hungry, and your mouth wraps firmly around him. He sucks in his breath, surprised at your zeal. You force him down and feel him hit the back of your throat; he groans and makes a noise somewhere between a laugh and a cry of relief.

 

He is delicious.

 

Perhaps this is why he needs the mask: his face, his eyes, his mouth, all give himself away. He’s yours for the taking. You make eye contact and pull away, slowly, your cheeks hollowing.

 

He breathes your name. “Stop. I need to fuck you. Now.”

 

The suction causes an audible _pop_ when you release his cock. “I don’t think so.” You tease his slit with the tip of your tongue and massage up his thighs, bringing more blood to his cock. His hard thighs melt under your touch.

 

He runs his hands through his hair, trying to look casual, but you can see he’s wiping away the sweat. “You don’t actually enjoy this, do you?”

 

You freeze and look up, assuming he meant to be sarcastic, but his expression is serious. “Bucky.” You squeeze the base of his cock with your hands. He’s grown too thick for your mouth to handle him now, but you’ll be damned if you don’t try. You echo his command from before. “Don’t ask stupid questions.”

 

He sits upright but you force him into your mouth again before he can protest. His eyes smolder and he tilts his head back, groaning. What your mouth lacks in size, you make up for in enthusiasm. You expose him to the texture of your tongue, of the inside of each of your cheeks… and, inevitably, your teeth. You check Bucky’s expression, but he looks like he’s in ecstasy. _The dude’s a soldier. A rough blowjob won’t hurt him._

 

He brings his head up and makes eye contact with you. He’s gone quiet, so you increase your pace and squeeze him with your hands. He inhales, his chest expanding, making his shoulders look even broader from your vantage point. His vision is hazy, but yours is perfectly clear. You can see the stubble underneath his chin. A stray eyelash has fallen on his cheek. You brush your fingertips against his cheek to clear away the lash, but it clings to the pad of your finger. You stop sucking to stare at the lash. It’s long and straight, just like his perfect cock, and it reminds you that even the strongest of men can fall apart in tiny ways.

 

He takes advantage of your pause, sliding his cock out of your mouth and standing up. “Any more of that, doll, and I’ll lose it.” He looks inside your nightstand drawer and then back at you. “Where do you keep your condoms?”

 

“Um…”

 

He looks down, trying to hide his smile. His long legs whisk him across the room and he swoops through the doorway like some sort of sex ballerina.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

He ignores you. So you follow him.

 

* * *

 

“I know the answer’s probably no, but do you have a condom?”

 

Steve looks fucking pissed. He puts down his sandwich and reaches into his pocket. “What flavor?”

 

“You serious?”

 

“Yeah, I’m a convenience store, Bucky.” Steve opens his wallet and pulls out a square packet. “But it’s not for you. It’s for her.” He looks at you, his eyes softening. “Like I said, I want you to be safe.”

 

Your face heats up. He’s too nice. Even though he broke your door and used your stuff to make a sandwich. “Thank you.” You reach your hand forward to accept the packet.

 

Bucky beats you to it, snatching the condom from Steve’s hand.

 

Steve bristles at him. “It fits me, but it’ll probably be too big for you.”

 

You stare at Steve. He knows how big Bucky is – he sucked him off, for Christ’s sake – so you know he’s doing this just to get a rise out of Bucky.

 

Bucky chuckles. “Depends. Did you buy this condom pre- or post-serum?”

 

You try to break the animosity. “Can I have a bite of your sandwich?”

 

Steve hands you the plate, but Bucky pushes it back to him. “Keep your sandwich and fuck off.”

 

“I will. And that condom’s going to look like a damn wind-sock on your ‘little soldier’.”

 

Bucky rips open the packet and pulls his cock out. He rolls on the condom and beams triumphantly when it doesn’t reach the base.

 

“Hang on, you haven’t rolled it down all the way.” Steve reaches for Bucky’s cock.

 

“I got it.” Bucky tries to brush his hands away, but you notice he sort of leans in to Steve.

 

Steve’s hands linger by the rolled-down condom. “What do you know. It fits.”

 

Bucky bites his lip. His eyes follow Steve’s hands as he puts them back down at his sides. “Enjoy the sandwich, Captain.” He grabs your arm and whisks you back to the bedroom.

 

* * *

 

James Buchanan Barnes without a stitch of clothing is a sight to behold.

 

“Relax, doll.” He kisses the back of your neck, his hair tickling you.

 

You breathe out slowly, closing your eyes. You’ve never slept with a man this quickly before.You’ve always been taught that good girls make the guy wait. Are you a good girl? With Steve, you never had to question yourself, but with Bucky…

 

He trails kisses down your spine, lingering at the small of your back. He uses his tongue and, every time he draws his mouth away, he leaves a wet spot that catches the air and makes you shiver. His hands are on your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh. Your knees ache, distracting you from the sensation of his lips, now at the base of your spine.

 

He keeps going further and further down, until he’s not exactly kissing your back anymore. Your breathing picks up. How far down is he going to go? “Bucky…”

 

You feel teeth on your shoulder and gasp. Damn, he moves quickly. He puts his head by yours, waiting for you to speak.

 

“Um, I’ve never…”

 

“Never been fucked from behind?”

 

You laugh, but it’s mostly out of nervousness. “No. Your mouth was just kind of close to my…”

 

His thumbs massage the inside of your ass cheeks. “Close to what?”

 

He knows what you mean, you can tell from his tone. He’s teasing you. He wants to hear you say it. Well, you certainly know many words for it, you may as well use one. “My --”

 

He coaxes a finger into your asshole. “This?”

 

You bite your lip and suck in your breath. “Yes.”

 

He trails another finger further down, the sensation on your sensitive nerve endings eliciting a moan from you. “Or did you mean this?” His finger circles your entrance, then slips slowly inside.

 

Your arms weaken and your torso falls to the mattress. His name floats out of your mouth and gets buried in the pillow. He feels you from the inside with his fingers, enough to hitch your voice up a register and send pretty much all your brain cells on vacation. You can hear them deserting you now: _See ya later, slut! We’ll be back when Bucky puts his clothes back on, shaves his head, and moves to a different planet._

You’re so screwed.

 

He slips another finger inside your entrance and you almost don’t feel it, you’re so wet. He hums, clearly enjoying the view. You crane your neck to look at him. His icy blue eyes lend a chill to his smouldering gaze, and the result is like steam. The humidity in the room is rising. He slips his fingers out and they’re obscenely shiny. He brings them to his mouth and sucks on them. When he pulls them out, his tongue follows. Any time you catch a glimpse of his tongue, it sends another tidal wave of anticipation through your body. Fuck, there isn’t enough time in the universe to do what you want to do with that tongue.

 

His voice is husky, pressured with desire. “I need more than just a taste of you, doll.”

 

You feel so empty, it’s almost painful. You arch your back and toss your hair over your shoulder. “And I need more than just your fingers.”

 

He gathers your hair into a ponytail and twists it, forcing you to raise your chin. “Careful what you wish for.”

 

He circles your entrance with his cock and slips the head inside you slowly and then _holy fuck_ –

 

He’s so thick. As he enters you, he just gets thicker and thicker. You release a scream and grip the sheets, needing something to hang on to so he doesn’t knock you over with his force. He thrusts into you and it’s like a fucking miracle every time. His hands are on either side of your hips and eventually your head clears enough to realize that he’s remaining relatively still. He’s using his strong hands to control your body, to pump you up and down his cock. You’re the one moving, but he’s the one with the power.

 

He groans, as if using your body is the only way he can reach ecstasy. And damn, does he know how to use you. His passion is energizing and exhausting at the same time.

 

He grabs your breasts and angles your torso up. He presses his mouth against your ear, humidity coming through in his breaths and causing your hair to stick to his lips. “Say you’re mine. You’re my girl.”

 

You need a moment to figure out how to use language again. “I’m yours, Bucky.”

 

“And you’re only mine.” He thrusts into you extra-hard for emphasis. “Say it.”

 

“I’m only yours. You’re the one.”

 

He pants into your ear, your name tumbling out from his lips like he can’t help it. “I lo- _Fuck._ ” His cry is guttural. He holds your hips tight against him, spilling himself into you. Your ears have perked up and you listen to him orgasm. He sounds like a wild animal. He doesn’t speak another word.

 

When he goes quiet, he grabs a length of your hair and smells it. He gently places it back over your shoulder and kisses your neck. He disposes of the condom and lies down.

 

You remain on your knees. “What were you about to say?”

 

He pulls you down to lie beside him, tucking his metal arm under the pillow to shield you from its chill. His warm right arm wraps around you. “Hmm? I don’t remember.” He tucks your back against his chest and, for the rest of the night, you are his little spoon.


	4. Burning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the bookmarks, kudos, and comments! *huge smile for days* You are amazing and I love you. Have a donut.
> 
> I saw a gif of Sebastian saying if he could go on a picnic with anyone, it would be Grace Kelly. I googled her and discovered that A) she was poised and elegant, and B) I am nothing like the woman. Oh well. Whatever. *cries*
> 
> Let me know if he changes his answer to Jennifer Lawrence. I feel like she’s my long lost twin or something. Picnic with J. Law, yeaahhh!
> 
> Thank you for tolerating me.

Steve looks illegally hot wearing a tool belt.

 

He’s standing in your entranceway with his head cocked. “You’ve got one broken door, and one man who knows how to fix it. You really going to turn that down?”

 

“It’s my fault you had to break it down in the first place. You don’t have to do this.”

 

“I don’t have to, but I want to.” He’s already tearing down the fragments of the old door. He’s got a brand new one leaning against the wall outside. Good thing it’s sunny today.

 

You probably shouldn’t have Steve over right now, but you’re kind of craving the company of a man. You fell asleep in Bucky’s arms last night and, when you woke up, he was gone.

 

Your breakfast had been tasteless, the flavor robbed by nagging thoughts of: _you shouldn’t have slept with him._ Bucky didn’t even leave you a phone number, and you didn’t give him yours. For all you know, he’s was lying as a way to seduce you, and now he’s gone for good. _If he can break into my house, he’s capable of anything, I guess._

The whir of the electric screwdriver stops. Steve’s eyes search yours. “You okay?”

 

“Yeah.” Your voice sounds like a ghost drifting, directionless.

 

He starts up the screwdriver again. He barely touches it to the hinge, and then takes his finger off the trigger and puts it down. “I was going to surprise you, but…” He reaches into his pocket. “I bought two tickets to _Les Miserables_ months ago. The show’s tonight. I’ve been trying to work up the courage to ask you to come with me. I guess I should’ve asked you sooner…”

 

“I’m not busy. I’d love to come with you.”

 

He beams at you. “So it’s a date. Well, not a date, but --”

 

You touch his arm. “It’s a date.” _If Bucky doesn’t want his girl seeing other guys, maybe he should keep a better eye on me._ You return Steve’s dazzling smile. You still feel kind of shitty for being abandoned by Bucky, but you’re not going to let it ruin your day. No guy is worth that, no matter how soft his hair, or how beautiful his eyes…

 

His eyes…

 

Your shoulders slump. Now you feel like shit again.

 

* * *

 

Steve licks his upper lip. “Thanks. I needed that.”

 

“Yeah, you looked like you needed it. I mean, you’re welcome.” He’s slightly out of breath and there’s a hint of sweat on his t-shirt under his neck. It’s kind of making you stupid. He’d chugged back the glass of lemonade you gave him in a matter of seconds, as if it was the Virgin Mary’s milk and he was Dehydrated Jesus. There’s something strangely sexual about watching men consume things. “Do you want another one?”

 

He shakes his head and looks down at himself. He laughs. “I should go home. I need a shower.”

 

You hear an engine roar outside. You peek out the window and see a familiar arm on the steering wheel.

 

Your heart rate jumps. “You shouldn’t be here.”

 

“Why?”

 

Bucky pulls into your driveway and gets out.

 

Steve looks out the window. “He’s the one who shouldn’t be here.”

 

Since you haven’t locked the new door, Bucky lets himself in.

 

You make room for Bucky to enter, but Steve stands his ground. “Would’ve been polite for you to knock.”

 

Bucky pushes past Steve, their shoulders colliding. Bucky looks Steve up and down, eyeing his tool belt. “Nice job on the door. Got another condom?”

 

You try to keep your eyes off Bucky. You don’t want him to see how much you’ve missed him, especially since it’s only been one night. His hair is windblown – he must have rolled the windows of his car down – and his lips are curled into a smirk. He thinks he can come over uninvited, after taking off last night, and demand your attention? He’s got a lesson to learn. You’re not that kind of girl.

 

But, fuck, he looks good. Is he wearing different pants? These ones are tighter than yesterday’s.

 

“Hey, doll. Miss me?” A lock of hair falls in front of his eyes.

 

You keep your face turned and give him a sideways look. “Hello.”

 

“I don’t think she wants to talk to you.” Steve hitches up his tool belt, like he’s about to grab a hammer and smack Bucky’s dick.

 

“Who said anything about talking?” Bucky runs a hand down your arm.

 

You want to move your arm away, but it feels good. You feel a twinge of guilt, wishing you had more control over your carnal desires. “Sorry, I’m busy tonight.”

 

He raises his eyebrows. “Doing what?”

 

Steve pulls out the tickets and holds them up. Not in his face, but just enough to catch Bucky’s attention. Bucky’s eyes focus on the tickets and then he laughs. “How ironic, because you’ll be miserable all night with this one.” He jabs his thumb in Steve’s direction.

 

 _At least I know he’ll stay by my side the whole night_ , you want to say, but you just cast Bucky another look before looking down. “I need to get ready. Thanks for visiting.”

 

Steve opens the door and gives Bucky a pointed look.

 

Bucky gestures. “After you.”

 

Steve nods and steps outside.

 

Bucky slams the door shut and locks it.

 

“Hey,” Steve hollers from the other side.

 

“Dumbass.” Bucky grabs you around the waist and pulls you into him. Your ass collides into his groin. Your hands fly to his arms in attempt to pry yourself away. You may as well be a ragdoll, for all the strength he’s got in his arms. It’s frustrating how he can overpower you so easily.

 

He buries his lips in your hair, right behind your ear. “You still smell like me.”

 

“That’s why I’m taking a shower.”

 

“I think you’d look better in a bath.”

 

“I’m not all that concerned about what you think.” You wiggle free from his grasp, but you get the feeling it’s only because he let you. You walk towards the bathroom and expect to feel his arms around you at any second – he wouldn’t let you get away that easily, would he?

 

You turn around and see him still by the door. He’s avoiding your eyes. “So this is what it feels like.”

 

You want to get in the shower and ignore him, but your curiosity gets the best of you. “What?”

 

“Rejection.” He looks up at you.

 

What a bullshitter. “Name one other woman who’s rejected you.”

 

His eyebrows dart up for a second. He opens his mouth, and then closes it.

 

“Exactly.”

 

“Name one woman who’s rejected _you_.”

 

“What is that supposed to mean?”

 

“It means you asked the wrong question.”

 

You open your mouth, but he opens the door and steps out, slamming it behind him.

 

Your stomach twists into a knot. You step forward, your instinct being to run after him. _But I wanted him to leave._ You recall what Bucky said last night: Be careful what you wish for.

 

Did he really reject you by vanishing last night? Maybe he had somewhere to be. Or maybe he wanted to sleep in his own bed.

 

_Am I in the wrong?_

And here he goes making you question yourself again.

 

You step into the shower, self-doubt washing over you harder than the water.

 

* * *

 

The house-lights turn on. Intermission.

 

Steve squeezes your hand. “Do you want anything?”

 

 _Bucky._ “Uh…”

 

“I’m getting popcorn. Can I get you…?”

 

“Oh.” You squeeze his hand back and stand up. “You bought the tickets, I’ll get the food.”

 

“You sure?”

 

You step past his legs and shoot a coy look back at him. “I’m always sure.”

 

He laughs. It’s so easy to be with him.

 

You walk down the hall, people everywhere. You’re a tiny drop of human in a sea of flesh. You’re halfway to the concession when you feel a cool pair of hands grab your waist. 

 

You jump and jerk your head around.

 

“Hey, it’s just me.” Steve reassures you when he sees your reaction. “I forgot to tell you, I want to see if they have the kind with the cheese.”

 

He lets go of your waist and you kind of wish he hadn’t. You feel tiny again.

 

When you get to the counter, Steve speaks before you can. “Do you have the kind with the cheese?”

 

The cashier’s young and she blushes because Steve’s freaking cute. Or maybe she thinks he’s weird. But cute guys can say weird stuff and it’s still cute. “Sorry?”

 

“Like, cheesy popcorn.”

 

This could take a while. You hand Steve your cash. “I have to go pee. I’ll meet you back in our seats.”

 

You’ve never been to this theater before and have to ask an employee where the washroom is, but eventually you find it. There aren’t too many people swarming around here, maybe because the other girls don’t want their dates to know they use the washroom. Right beside it, there’s a door that says CUSTODIAN.

 

You’re about to pull open the door, when you feel familiar hands around your waist again. Your body relaxes into Steve’s grip. “Hey, so did they have what you wanted?” Then you wonder, _if he bought food, how does he have two free hands?_

 

Before you can turn around, you’re thrown into the custodian’s closet. You hit your stomach against something jutting out from the wall. Your pain escapes through your lips. A hand clamps over your mouth, muffling your noise.

 

The door closes, shutting out the last trace of light.

 

Your hands grab onto your assailant’s arm and it sucks the heat from your skin. He removes his hand from your mouth and runs his fingers through your hair, brushing it back to kiss your ear. “Don’t make me gag you.”

 

Fucking hell. “I’ll scream.”

 

“I have my knife, doll.” He thrusts his groin into your ass and bites into your neck.

 

Your heart is racing, which should be a good thing considering he almost stopped it. You tilt your head and lean into him. You can’t help it; it feels so good to be consumed by him again. “I can’t do this. The intermission is almost over.”

 

“I don’t care.” His hands slip down to your thighs and he yanks up your skirt.

 

You shriek and try to pull it back down. It’s hard to navigate in the dark. You have no idea what he’ll do next. _And that’s fucking sexy._

No it isn’t, it’s fucking scary. You should be pissing yourself. “But Steve --”

 

His pulls your hair and growls into your ear. “Don’t fucking say his name.”

 

“I’ll say whatever I --”

 

His strong hands flip you around to face him, making you dizzy. He crushes his lips into yours, not giving you a chance to take a last sip of air. The way he kisses you, it’s like he doesn’t want you to breathe; he doesn’t want you to think.

 

You can feel his massive cock against your underwear. It’s like it’s breaking through his pants. There’s no way you have time to have sex. You don’t want to miss the second half of the show. And you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he can have you whenever he wants, regardless of what you're doing.

 

He breaks away from you and you anticipate his teeth on your neck. Instead, he lets his soft lips brush against one of your cheeks, and then the other one.

 

He may as well have shoved his metal hand into your chest and squeezed your heart. You bury your face into his neck, making sure your eyes don’t touch his skin. You squeeze your eyes shut because they feel hot and you're afraid of what they'll do. You wish you could give yourself to him, every night for the rest of your life, as long as he wouldn’t leave you like he did last night.

 

His breath is hot in your ear. “I want you.”

 

 _But for how long?_ You fist your hands in his hair. _I wish I could find someone who I could rely on…_

Steve.

 

If Bucky had never broken in last night, you’d be happy with Steve. Maybe not totally happy, but at least you wouldn’t be confused.

 

You keep your eyes shut, holding back what you never want him to see. You press your hands against his chest. “I’m not your toy.”

 

He murmurs your name in your ear. His voice is soft. _Am I overreacting?_ You swallow back your fear. You want him to think you’re angry, because anger is better armor than fear for vulnerability, and Bucky's way of kissing your neck makes you feel especially vulnerable.

 

You need to see his face. He’s gone quiet again and it’s ripping apart your insides.

 

He slips his hand over your underwear and lets the tip of his index finger speak for him.

 

You’re definitely late now. _Fuck it._

 

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and press yourself into him. He smells just the way you remember. You rub your face against his neck and tug the collar of his shirt down, needing more of him. He does the same to your underwear, tugging it aside so forcefully you worry he’ll snap it. His metal fingers against your clit make you shiver, but your skin is so overheated that his fingers slowly warm up and almost feel human.

 

He holds his lips in front of yours, almost close enough to kiss you. You try to close the gap, but he leans away. He refuses to talk, and now he won't kiss you either. Your arms tighten around his neck, partly out of frustration and partly because your legs are weakening. He moves his fingers unpredictably around your most sensitive spot, soaking his glove.

 

You don’t want to make too much noise, but it’s impossible to keep yourself from whimpering, from sighing, from doing whatever he wants you to do. _He wants to know he has control of me._ He slips a finger inside you, just half an inch, _half a fucking inch_ , like he’s purposely holding back what he knows you need. You huff, a lock his hair sticking to what remains of your lip gloss. You don’t want to orgasm in his palm, you want him to fill you. You slip your hand down his hard abdomen and touch his package. “I need you.”

 

“Then make sure you’re alone tonight.” He slips his hand out of your underwear. "I don't want to see you with him again."

 

You’re freezing all of a sudden, and you realize he’s stepped away from you. “Bucky?”

 

There’s a beam of light for a second as he slips through the door. You catch a glimpse of the hair you've mussed, of the shoulders that supported you.  _Maybe he has the same fear as me: that I’ll abandon him._

 

You slump against the wall, grasping at something to hang on to so you don’t collapse. He got you so close. Your body feels like rubber. You breathe out and rest your hand against your crotch, hoping to finish what he started.

 

Moments later you relax your hand, still frustrated. There’s no way you can compete with what he’s able to do. He’s completely spoiled you.

 

You re-adjust your clothes as best you can and yank the door open. You peek down the hall, but he’s disappeared.

 

Again.

 

* * *

 

 

You scoot past the mass of feet and knees to get back to your seat. About a thousand apologies to strangers later, you’re sitting beside Steve.

 

“Where were you?” He touches your arm, concerned.

 

“I have my period. I had to find a tampon.” You feel shitty for lying, but you don't want to hurt his feelings.

 

He turns his head back to the stage. He watches the musical for a moment before leaning towards you. “You smell different. Like cleaning stuff and… metal.”

 

You keep your gaze fixed on the stage, but he keeps staring at you.

 

“Your face is all red,” he says slowly.

 

A voice comes from behind you. “Shhh.”

 

Steve lowers his voice. “Where is he?”

 

You snap your head to look at him. “Who?”

 

The woman behind you leans forward and taps you on the shoulder. “Shhh.”

 

Damn, you’re not even the one making most of the noise, why is she tapping your shoulder? You cast a glance back at her, and then back at Steve. You can tell from his eyes, he’s closed himself off to you. He looks back at the stage and clenches his jaw.

 

* * *

 

By the time you walk out of the building, he still hasn't said anything. He’s walking faster than you and you have to practically kill yourself to match his pace.

 

“Steve.” You grab his hand, out of breath. “I’m sorry.”

 

He slows his pace and then stops. “I can’t be just your friend. Every time I see you, I want to...”

 

You hold his hand until he looks at you. “What?”

 

His cheeks turn pink. “I want to kiss you.”

 

His hand remains limp. You squeeze it, trying to put the life back into it. “Then why don’t you kiss me?” You soften your voice to match his gaze.

 

“Because I don’t want to doubt whether you want to be kissed.”

 

He's so cute. He doesn't deserve this. _I don't deserve him_ _._ You take his other hand and face him. “I want you to kiss me.”

 

His hands clasp around yours. He hesitates, but then leans down. The sun is setting behind you, and the light reaches less of his face as it becomes eclipsed by your own. You close your eyes. His nose brushes against yours. Finally, you get to kiss the guy you've had a crush on forever and not be interrupted.

 

“Not if you’re thinking about him.”

 

You open your eyes. Steve pulls away from you.

 

You stand there, numb, until your cab pulls up. You ride home in silence and wonder how you went from two guys fighting over you to two guys not talking to you.

 

 _'Make sure you're alone tonight,'_ you recall Bucky's words. 

 

_I will be. And it's all my fault._

 


	5. Between Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the encouraging comments! The last two months-ish have been a series of me coming up with ideas and then deciding they were stupid ideas, so I basically have all these loose one-page beginnings floating around inside my computer like the ghosts at Hogwarts. But, I finally came up with an idea for this chapter and the next few chapters that I think are going to be a pretty wicked ride. I can't wait to toy with your emotions >:D
> 
> And I need to call attention to the tumblr post in peppa's comment. First of all, I am flattered beyond belief that this fic inspired something because this is the first time ever that something like this has happened :D Also, when I clicked the link, I laughed for like five minutes straight and the image stayed with me during my whole day at work. Which is awkward when you're trying to work and you randomly burst out laughing because you remember... well... just see for yourself: http://peppagumka.tumblr.com/post/92714123641/so-i-was-reading-this-bucky-fanfic-and-there-was
> 
> It's a truly beautiful work of art. Thank you, peppa, for completing my life.
> 
> Also, I guess I could let you guys know what my tumblr username is, in case you like following people who have Jupiter-sized crushes on SebStan, Hiddles, Nikki Sixx, Lee Pace... and, yeah. I'm sittingwithyourlegsopen. Don't judge me.
> 
> Edit (Jul 30): Here's the url to the gif that inspired my "sex ballerina" phrase in chapter 3: http://2insidious4u.tumblr.com/post/87428598866/paraxdisepink-bucky-this-is-your-mission-not-a

You waited for Bucky that night. You waited for him the next night, and the night after that too. After two weeks of waiting for nothing, when Steve called you, you answered the phone.

 

You made up with words, not sex. And for the next two months, you’ve been dating Steve in what has pretty much been the most stable relationship you’ve ever had. For a good reason: no Bucky. Bucky hasn’t contacted you since. You wonder if he’s forgotten about you. _Maybe he found some other girl_.

 

No. Stop it. You don’t care. You’ve had a stable boyfriend for almost two months. Why should you care that some other guy isn’t talking to you?

 

Not that it’s the talking that you miss. Actually, your relationship with Steve would be perfect if he would only ~~fuck you senseless until you pass out~~ …

 

Or at least acknowledge how goddamn horny you are. You’re practically humping your pillow at night. The only reason you’ve refrained from doing that is so you can feel somewhat superior to your dog.

Plus, you don’t want to jump the gun in the bedroom a second time around.

 

 _I’ll just wait for Steve to initiate it,_ you told yourself. Ever since you two made up, Steve’s been texting and calling you almost every day. You know he’s interested, which is why it’s perplexing that he hasn’t done more than kiss you. In public. He hasn’t brought you back to his place and, the last time you invited him in to your house, he suddenly had to leave when you’d been kissing for a good ten minutes.

 

 _Is it me?_ You know you shouldn’t be thinking of Bucky, especially since, as the days go by, you’re becoming increasingly sure that he’s never going to reach out to you, but you miss the way how he made you feel so desired.

 

Steve makes you feel wanted in a different way. Since you haven’t had sex with him yet, your dates have been full of conversation and getting to know each other. And there’s one thing that Steve does that most other guys haven’t done – he _listens_.

 

If only you were having sex – or at least were making out for more than ten minutes at a time – it would be the perfect relationship.

 

_I feel like something is missing – and I don’t know whether it’s because something really is missing, or because I’m acting spoiled. I should be thankful for what I do have._

You remind yourself that the sex will come eventually. Right?

 

You’d feel surer of yourself if Steve expressed more carnal desire for you. Every time you kiss, you can’t help but wonder if he’s holding back. Or why he’s holding back. But you know you can rely on him in every other way…

 

* * *

 

 … Until he goes six days without texting or calling you. You texted him on the third day, but he hasn’t replied. _What is going on?_

 

This isn’t characteristic of Steve. Has something horrible happened to him? You wonder if you should stop by his house. Or is that stalkerish? You care about him, but you don’t want to act like his mother. So far you’ve let Steve steer the relationship and  it’s gone pretty smoothly. A part of you is afraid that, if you start to take charge, it’ll crash and burn.

 

Best case scenario, Steve is fine and he’s just ignoring you. Which still sucks, considering last week you successfully managed to replace Bucky with Steve in your dirtiest sexual fantasies. Thank God Steve looks just as good with whipped cream on his nipples. Hypothetically speaking, of course.

 

Tonight, the sun is taking its time going down, and it looks like honey is pouring in your living room window. The light hits your TV and you wonder what movie you should watch on Netflix. You’re scrolling past the icons of different TV shows and movies, and you see _Gossip Girl_ with Sebastian Stan’s face in the screen shot. _Netflix, you dirty tease_. You know he’s only in 11 episodes, out of like eight seasons. You’re realizing that, like so many other things in life, the show looks good until you actually delve into it and realize you have to either have to lower your expectations or abandon it in order to cope with the disappointment. Maybe that’s why you find it so hard to choose something to watch on Netflix: you are trying desperately to avoid disappointment. Unfortunately, the result is that you’re stuck in movie limbo, which also sucks. You know you should make a decision, so that at least you have a chance at being happy. If only for approximately 90 minutes.

 

You bunch up the blanket beside you, wishing it was a person. A certain person…

 

The doorbell rings, shaking you out of limbo.

 

“Coming,” you holler, jumping up from the couch and abandoning the blanket behind you.

 

You peek through the window first, just in case Ted Bundy 2.0 is on the other side of the door. You’re home alone, and the only way you’d open the door to a strange man is if it was Tom Hiddleston ~~holding an extra-large pizza~~.

 

Your face breaks into a smile as you whip open the door. “Steve.”

 

“Hey.” His smile brightens up the shadow the sun casts on his face. He holds the smile just a second longer than he normally does. You stare at his eyes, wondering if it’s just your imagination that’s telling you there’s something different. “I’m so sorry.”

 

Your shoulders relax. That’s what is so great about Steve compared to other guys – he apologizes after he’s gone a while without talking to you. You tilt your head. “That’s okay.”

 

“I --” He looks down, then back up at you. “I lost my phone.”

 

“It happens to the best of us. Come inside. Are you hungry?”

 

His eyes regain that familiar spark. “No, but thank you.”

 

 _Yeah right, he’ll be pillaging my fridge any second now._ You can feel yourself beaming, happy to see him. And relieved to know that his lack of communication wasn’t due to him being physically injured or ignoring you. You step back from the doorway and gesture for him to enter.

 

He seems hesitant at first, but eventually he steps inside. It hasn’t even been a full seven days, and he’s just as cute as you remember. But you can’t help but feel something is different. _Did he get a haircut? New cologne?_ You shut the door behind him and lock it.

 

When you turn around, he grabs your hand.

 

“I missed you,” he says. It’s slightly dim in your living room – you’ve got only two lamps on – and his pupils have dilated.

 

You gaze up at him. His hand feels exactly the way it always does – warm and comforting. “I missed you too.” You hear the emotion in your voice and it makes you anxious to be revealing so much. You trust Steve, but his surprise visit has sent you a little off balance. You lean into him, squeezing his hand.

 

He brings your hand to his mouth and presses his soft lips against the back of your hand. The gesture makes you swoon, but you can’t help but notice the sinking feeling in your stomach: déjà vu mixed with disappointment.

 

_No. Not disappointment. You can only feel disappointment if you had expectations._

Is it worth having expectations for tonight?

 

Steve steps into your living room and looks at your TV. “That actor looks familiar.”

 

You hurry in after him. “Oh, I wasn’t going to watch that, I was just browsing.”

 

He turns his head over his broad shoulders and grins. “Need help choosing a movie?”

 

You gulp. _God, yes._ “Okay.”

 

He plops down on the couch and your heart squeezes a little at how he just naturally makes himself at home. You could get used to this whole steady-boyfriend thing. Maybe one day you’ll end up living together? He picks up the blanket but, instead of wrapping himself in it, he opens it and holds it out beside him. “Get over here.”

 

Your cheeks heat up and you walk over in what you hope is a casual way, even though you feel like leaping onto his lap in a burst of ecstasy. _Why am I holding myself back? I should be able to express my pure emotions in front of Steve._ Is it because you feel that he’s holding himself back? You snuggle into his side and he wraps the blanket around your shoulders, and then puts his strong arm around you. You put your head on his shoulder as he picks up the remote. You feel so secure in this moment. Why would either of you have any reason to conceal anything?

 

You look up at him, your lips only inches away from his. If he were to look at you right now, you swear to God you’d plaster your lips all over his incredible face.

 

But he keeps his eyes focused on the TV. “Have you seen any episodes of this? It’s really good.”

 

You glance at the screen. He’s flipped to _Orange is the New Black._ “Just the first season.”

 

He smiles but doesn’t look at you. “You gotta watch the second season.” His tone is full of passion, and you press yourself against his side, willing him to direct his passion your way.

 

“I would’ve never guessed that you like that show.”

 

He finally looks down at you. His face is a little out of focus from being so close, but he’s so cute, it’s paralyzing. “What’s not to like?”

 

Even his breath smells good. You can practically feel the warmth coming from his lips. He’s wrapped you so snugly in the blanket, your hand struggles to escape. You need to touch him. You rest your hand on his thigh, close to his knee. You hope the gesture comes off as an invitation rather than a demand. _Because I like my men to be the demanding ones._

Oh my God, should you even attempt to get your mind out of the gutter at a time like this? It’s not even a gutter at this point. It’s a deep, dark trench and you just want to roll around in it with –

 

You hear the remote thump softly against the arm of the couch. Your name escapes from Steve’s lips.

 

The gap closes between you. You’re not sure if it’s due to you or him, but you don’t care. His mouth is flush against yours and, although it’s only been a week, it’s still been way too long. You close your eyes and pray that your kissing will last longer than ten minutes. That maybe it will lead to…

 

A tiny part of you closes up, trying to block yourself from forming any expectations. _I don’t want to feel disappointed. But…_

_Is that any way to live?_

 

You break free from the blanket cocoon and thread your fingers through his hair. As your hands move, you feel the ends of his hair spring back against your wrists. _He’s so soft._

 

But equally strong. His arm moves from your shoulder to your waist, and he turns his torso so he can wrap his other arm around you. He’s so toasty, you could throw away all your blankets and still be happy. You could forget to pay your heating bill for the rest of your life and still sleep comfortably.

 

 _The rest of my life?_ Your tongue stops moving. Oh no, there you go creating expectations again. Steve’s mouth tastes so good, you don’t want to ruin anything. _Kissing is just kissing. It doesn’t have to mean anything; it doesn’t have to lead to anything._ But you kind of wish it did.

 

You haven’t moved in a few seconds and you expect Steve to break away, to interpret your lack of motion as disinterest. You open your eyes and see his eyelids squeezed shut. To your surprise, he presses his mouth even harder against you. He fills your mouth with his tongue and grabs your hips, pulling you onto his lap easily.

 

You trail your hands down his neck to his biceps. You slip the tips of your fingers underneath the sleeves of his soft cotton t-shirt. He shoves his hands underneath the bottom hem of your shirt. You almost squeal, surprised at his assertiveness. Aggressiveness? You don’t normally associate Steve with aggression. _Maybe I wasn’t imagining things. Maybe something has changed._

He breaks away from your mouth, a low gasp escaping his lips. It sounds so sexy, you feel a gush of anticipation between your legs. He presses his hot cheek against yours and kisses the spot in front of your ear. You bite your lip, wanting to say something, even if it’s just a passionate curse word, but you wait to see if he’s got something to say.

 

He tugs your hips closer to his stomach. He breathes into your ear and then fastens his lips against yours again. _What is he thinking?_ You want to say something, but you don’t want to spoil the moment. You’re afraid to do anything that might interrupt this burst of… aggression. You squeeze his biceps, your hands barely able to encompass them. You’ve known all along how strong he is, and you’ve been dying to enjoy the fruits of his strength. Finally, he’s making out with you the way you need him to.

 

You smile against his mouth. _Now things are perfect._

God, does he know how to work you. Where has Steve been hiding this passion for so long? _Maybe he was waiting for the right moment._ Your heart beats faster, thinking about what a sweetheart he is.

 

You’re not about to check the clock at a time like this, but you sense when more – way more – than ten minutes has gone by. He isn’t showing any signs of slowing down, he’s practically pouring himself into you, and it feels so good to release yourself. _Is this the night?_ You whole body heats up with anticipation. At this point, you don’t care about the risk of disappointment. He feels so damn good. Who cares about anything anymore?

 

He shoves his forearms up your shirt and you release his biceps so you can help him tug your shirt up over your head. You don’t care if you look too eager, because you are eager. You’re wearing a standard black bra, but Steve make you feel like you’re wearing the finest lace lingerie. He presses his palms on either side of your breasts and forces his face between them.

 

You cup the back of his head. “Yes.” The word escapes you as you tilt your head back.

 

He tugs the straps of your bra down your shoulders. He’s never seen your bare breasts before. Your thighs tense around his lap. Even though you’re more turned on than you’ve been in weeks, you can’t help but feel nervous. _A man hasn’t seen my breasts since…_

You snap your eyes open. You look at Steve, hoping the image clears your head and brings you back into the moment. Tonight is about you and Steve, nobody else.

 

He pulls his face out of your breasts, another sexy gasp sounding from his lips. He’s still got his eyes squeezed shut. You kind of wish he’d open them – his blue eyes would look so sexy from this angle. You barely have time to process your last thought as he presses his mouth against your neck, his breath hot and his tongue even hotter.

 

He’s tilting his head, giving you a good view of his erect nipples beneath his fitted shirt. You’re dying to rip that shirt off his body, and you would if you had even half the strength in your arms that he has.

 

You bet his nipples taste like raspberries on top of square, pectoral pancakes. Your mouth waters. “I need you, Steve,” you say before you can stop yourself. The amount of vulnerability in your voice makes you freeze. You hope you don’t sound needy. You’ve never been one to willingly tip your hand and give yourself away.

 

Well, except with…

 

You squeeze your eyes shut. _Focus,_ you scold yourself.

 

“Say it again.” Steve’s lips slide closer to your earlobe.

 

Your jaw nearly drops. His voice is quiet but assertive, but it shocks you nonetheless. Your face heats up. You want to completely let go with Steve, but you also can’t shake the feeling that you need to be cautious.

 

You can’t bring yourself to repeat yourself. The first time you said it, it was only an impulse. If you said it again, it would be a planned thing. You place your hands on either side of his head and bring his face in front of yours. His mouth is perfect, and you kiss each corner of it. _I’ll say it again if he opens his eyes._

You’re impatient, in more ways than one. You lightly tug on his bottom lip with your teeth. “Look at me,” you say gently, your fingertips exploring his hair.

 

You’re staring at him and notice he gulps before opening his eyes. There’s something in his eyes that you can’t quite put your finger on. Is it pleading? Maybe he’s waiting for you to take control. You brush your hands over the top of his head, wishing you could open it like a book. Or Google.

 

“You’re an amazing kisser,” you say, hoping that maybe he just has nerves that need to be quelled. You hope it’s him, and not you. _Do you want me?_ you want to ask, but bite your lip instead.

 

Steve runs his hands up your back, his fingers lingering at the clasp of your bra. He murmurs your name. “I think you are beautiful.”

 

You can’t help it; you break into a huge smile. Your arms relax and you trail your hands to his broad shoulders. _Maybe he can read my mind._

 

He’s the first one to close his eyes. He leans his face towards you and the tip of his tongue darts out to lick his upper lip. There’s something so vulnerable in the gesture that reminds you to just let go and live in the moment.

 

His lips in front of you like that, so close to your own mouth, makes you even hornier for him. And you’ve been craving him for months now. Only a little impatient, you thrust your face forward and take his lips with yours, dying for another taste of his tongue.

 

He slips his fingers under the back of your bra, making the front of your bra press even tighter against your chest. You can feel yourself practically spilling out of the cups. You open your eyes to check whether Steve is watching.

 

Nope. Well, since he’s missing out on the visual…

 

Breaking away from the kiss, you sit up on your knees and softly press your breasts against his face. You reach behind your back and unhook your bra, letting the garment pop forward. The straps are already partway down your arms, so you shrug out of the bra, keeping it sandwiched between Steve’s mouth and your chest.

 

He runs his hands up the naked skin of your back, and it feels so good to be out of your bra, and to have his strong hands supporting your back. You can’t wait for him to put his hands on every inch of your body. It’s killing you to go slowly – you’d rather he rip off your bra an hour ago – but good things come to those who wait. And whose underwear is currently wetter than a tropical rainforest.

 

You lean back half an inch, just enough to let the bra fall down from your chest and onto Steve’s abdomen. He’s got the tiniest bit of stubble, enough so that you can feel it against the sensitive skin of your breasts, but not so much so that it’s painful. Although you wouldn’t mind a little pain…

 

He inhales deeply and the sound of his breathing refocuses your attention. He slips his hands, way too slowly, away from your back and toward your sides, almost underneath your armpits. He stays like that, completely still except for his breathing, for several moments.

 

After what feels like forever, he finally moves only his thumbs. He grazes the sides of your breasts. You don’t know how he can keep his eyes closed, because yours are wide open. You’re wide awake, the combination of excitement, horniness, and impatience not allowing you to relax completely.

 

He slides his hands, tracing the circle of the underside of each breast. You want to grab his warm hands and shove them on your breasts already, but you make yourself wait, wondering if he has a plan. Every man has different methods of seduction, and maybe Steve likes to take his time.

 

It’s certainly working. You bow your head and press a kiss into his soft hair, letting out a humming noise. You think about how, months ago, Steve was able to produce a condom from his wallet when you needed it with… Well, when you needed it. So he must be sexually active, right? Or at least available, otherwise why would he carry around a condom?

 

Your mind’s eye wanders to the pocket of his jeans where he keeps his wallet, right against his small but muscular ass. Does he have a condom in there right now? You trace your fingertips along his ears, feeling his skin heat up until it’s almost burning, right along with your heart. _I want you so badly,_ you want to say.

 

Steve’s voice is muffled by the soft tissue of your breasts. “Mmhmm?”

 

You freeze, wondering whether you accidently spoke out loud, or whether he was just making a random noise. Either way, his low voice sounds so sexy, you’d kill to hear it again.

 

You can’t remember the last time you made out with a guy for this long. In a burst of energy, you whip your bra away from his abdomen and throw it against the wall. The metal hooks slap against the wall and Steve finally opens his eyes, making eye contact with you.

 

You slip down so you’re eye level with him and shove your hands between the couch and his ass, grabbing onto him. “I’m ready for you,” you say, hoping to God you sound at least half as seductive as he does.

 

He kisses you again, but this time is more forceful. His tongue enters your mouth and he pushes it deeper than it’s ever gone before. It feels so good to be filled in some way. Your hands are still on his ass, and you try to pull him towards you, needing more. Needing it all.

 

Suddenly, Steve twists and springs forward and your back hits the seat of the couch. He’s on top of you now, pressing the entirety of his weight onto you, pinning you down so you can only move your arms. It feels so good to be a little out of control; all you need are your hands, which you push up under the back of his shirt. His skin is overheated from being against the couch for so long. You can feel your skin absorbing his heat, until your temperatures match perfectly.

 

You press your pelvis up against him, as hard as you can. He’s solid muscle and so much heavier than you, you don’t have to worry about the possibility of pushing him away. You’re both wearing jeans, and you can’t feel his package as much as you’d like. You know his cock – _his cock_ , fuck, just thinking about it is sending you over the edge – is huge and, although it’s been months since you’ve seen it, you can conjure an almost-perfect image of it in your mind that captures just how delicious it looked. You kiss Steve, sucking his lips, playing with his tongue, doing everything you can with your pants still on, as you fantasize about rubbing his cock against your mouth until your lips flush and swell. And you certainly won’t need a condom for that.

 

You do your best to yank his shirt over his head. It takes a moment for him to get the hint, but eventually he uses his gorgeous abdominal muscles to keep himself hovering above you as he grabs the hem of his shirt and wiggles out of it.

 

Your mind begins to run away from you. _Should I swallow?_ Steve’s face is masked momentarily by cotton. _No no, don’t count your chickens before they cum. One step at a –_

Holy fuck, his pectoral muscles are glorious. They’re sprinkled with these little blond hairs that you hadn’t noticed before. You feel yourself flush with happiness, grateful now that Steve made you wait, because now even his chest hairs are special to you.

 

You run your hands along the waistband of his jeans, which are so low-slung at this point, you wish there was a mirror on the ceiling so you could devour his mouth and see the top of his ass at the same time. You settle for slipping your hands beneath the waistband and filling your palms with his steely ass. Damn, if you had an ass like that, you could cut a chair in half just by sitting on it.

 

Steve’s supporting himself with his elbows. He weaves his hands into your hair, his thumbs brushing against your ears. _It’s so sexy how he can be soft and hard at the same time._

You move your hands to his pelvis, grabbing onto the button of his fly. Steve draws back slightly to create a gap for your hands. “These need to come off,” you say, your voice rushed, before you can stop yourself. You push the button through the hole and yank his zipper down, the teeth of the zipper scratching the pads of your fingers. The trail of hair leading down his pelvis is soft, and you trace up the line to soothe your fingers.

 

Steve mumbles something, but he’s so quiet you only catch the last part. “… ready.”

 

“Me too,” you breathe, pressing your chest against him and sliding your hands down the sides of his pants. You go as slowly as you can, attempting to match his pace, but eventually you’re able to feel what you’ve wanted to feel all along.

 

You tug down his pants and lean away so you can get a glimpse of him.

 

Steve is still quiet, but he speaks more clearly this time. “I’m not ready.”

 

You freeze and stare up at him. Then you remember you still have your hands down his pants. You glance down and pull your hands away, and you see that his cock is only semi-erect. Completely caught off guard, you speak the first thing that comes to mind. “I’m sorry.”

 

Steve looks like he’s about to cry. You slide yourself out from under him and you both sit up. You take his hand in yours. _Damn, I shouldn’t have been so aggressive. Now I’ve blown it._ You apologize again. “I didn’t mean to do anything you weren’t comfortable with. I thought --”

 

Steve squeezes your hand. “It’s okay.” He looks as if he’s pleading, and you realize he really means it.

 

You feel naked, and not in the good way, without your shirt and bra on. You slouch, self-conscious. “What’s wrong?” you say softly. You don’t want to push him, but you need to know what just happened. “Was I…?”

 

He reaches forward and smooths a lock of your hair. He smiles a little. There’s affection in his gesture and in his eyes, but you still have no idea what he’s thinking. “It’s not you.”

 

You’ve never heard that line directed at you before, but you know it’s not true. It is you, and you have to figure out what you did so you can apologize properly and make things right with Steve. You take a deep breath and let in out in one whoosh. You know Steve can’t read your mind either, so you decide at least one of you should know what the other is thinking. “Steve, I want to have sex with you.” _I think I’m falling in love with you_ , you want to say, but you don’t want to overwhelm him. “But if you don’t want to, that’s okay. I really care about you, and I never want to pressure you to do anything.”

 

He gazes at you, absorbing your words. He nods, like he really understands. When he says your name, it’s full of emotion. “I care about you too.”

 

You wait, in case he has anything else to add. Like, _I want to have sex with you too eventually, but not right now._

 

You grab your bra and shirt so you have something to distract yourself with, so you don’t focus on how much of an asshole you feel like. As you put your clothes back on, you mentally berate yourself for practically sexually assaulting Steve. What did you miss? Did he change his mind last minute, or did he feel uncomfortable the whole time you were making out? _I don’t want to do anything wrong._

You take a second longer than you need to slip your shirt down over your head, so you can shield your face as you compose yourself. You know if you don’t concentrate, you’ll start to cry, partly out of embarrassment and partly because you feel awful. You watch Steve slip into his shirt. His face is no longer flushed; he no longer looks like the human furnace he was when he was on top of you. _He must have been turned on at least most of the time._ “I understand if you want to leave. I know it’s getting late.” You actually don’t want Steve to leave, but you also don’t want him to feel like you’re keeping him captive.

 

He smiles and places a gentle kiss on your lips, then reaches for the remote. “It’s not that late. And I still need to help you pick something to watch.” There’s a glint of humour in his eyes.

 

You say a silent prayer, thinking that maybe he’s forgiven you. “Thank you for coming to my rescue,” you joke back, but your voice is too soft. You sound genuinely helpless.

 

“Anything for you.” He squeezes your hand.

 

Now that’s the Steve you know.

 

You bite your lip. Even though he kind of rejected you, it hasn’t put a damper on your desire for him. You nod at the TV. “Do you want to watch the second season with me?”

 

He furrows his brow and stares at _Orange is the New Black_ long enough that you can tell he’s not thinking about Netflix anymore. “No.”

 

You glance down at your lap. “Oh.”

 

He checks your expression. “Hey,” he says soothingly.

 

You’re the one who pushed his boundaries, and now he’s the one comforting you. He is so decent, it hurts your brain to think that there’s a guy like this that exists.

 

He cocks his eyebrow and his expression changes so fast, it’s like dumping cold water on your head. “Or were you desperate for an all-night _Gossip Girl_ marathon?”

 

You burst out laughing. It feels so good to relieve the tension, and so good to see him genuinely smile at your reaction. He pulls you into his side and you snuggle against him. You have no idea what you’re going to watch, but maybe that’s okay tonight.


	6. Please

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the quick responses and feedback and kudos! You guys are amazing, and one of the many reasons why I love fanfiction so much: the readers!
> 
> If it wasn't for SebStan's range of emotion as an actor, I don't think I'd have the inspiration for, like, half of the faces that Bucky does in this chapter. So I guess what I'm trying to say is... I don't know. I'm trying to make it sound like I'm appreciating an artist rather than just completely bending a character to my will for my own gratification. Is it working?
> 
> Pretty much all the trigger warnings in the tags apply to this chapter. Plus I added a few. Muahahaha ;)

“A McChicken on a double cheeseburger, are you serious?”

 

“Yeah, it’s called a McGangBang.”

 

You laugh. “Where did you learn that? That’s disgusting.”

 

Steve looks sad for a moment before his eyes crinkle with a smile. “Okay, what about pizza?”

 

You burrow deeper into his side and use your softest voice. “But I don’t want to leave the house.”

 

“Give me your phone. I’ll show you a magic trick.”

 

* * *

 

Half an hour later, the doorbell rings. When you rise from your couch, Steve jumps up faster than you and pushes you playfully back down against the cushions.

 

You laugh and push against him. “You got it last time.”

 

“And I’m getting it this time too, since…” He trails off, his grip on your shoulders loosening.

 

You read the expression on his face. _Because you can’t or won’t have sex with me?_ Guilt tugs the corners of your mouth down, and you have to work to keep your smile as bright as it was two seconds ago. You told Steve you’d be willing to wait for him, no matter how much time he needs. You hope the reason he always pays for you is because he truly wants to, and not because he feels he owes you anything. You feel guilty imagining the possibility that he feels inadequate for not sleeping with you.

 

Steve pauses for only a moment. “Since it’s my job to make sure you’re well-fed at all times.”

 

You arch an eyebrow. “I thought your goal in life was to make sure _you’re_ well-fed at all times.”

 

His jaw pops open and he narrows his eyes in a mock-offended way. “Okay. That’s it.” He grabs the edges of the blanket on your lap and wraps you so tightly and so quickly that you barely have time to squeal before he’s turned you into a straight-jacketed burrito.

 

He dashes towards the door, fishing his wallet out of his back pocket.

 

“If you’re going to leave me like this, I expect all of my slices to be fed to me.” You watch his butt disappear behind the kitchen wall next to the door. The rest of him disappears too, but you’re just a little extra-focused on his nicely curved little butt. _It’s even spectacular without the Wallet-Bump of Deception._

You’re daydreaming about cheesy pizza and nice butts, which is not out of the ordinary for you, when –

 

“You again.”

 

The voice is deep. Familiar. The speaker sounds way too sure of himself. The smile drops from your face. _No fucking way._

 

You kickstart yourself into self-talk mode. _That’s the pizza guy, he probably just has a sexier-than-average voice that just happens to sound like --_

 

“Bucky.” Steve sounds panicked.

 

Panicked? No, he’s got to be shocked and furious. He has no reason panic.

 

But you do.

 

Your heartbeat speeds up. Hearing Bucky’s voice sends a tidal wave of emotion through your body. You feel the fear, lust, and confusion you felt all on the first night he made you his.

 

_No, I’m not his. I’m… I belong to myself._

You wriggle your arms, trying to break free of the tight cocoon Steve put you in.

 

You hear the sultry voice again. “Miss m—? _Hey_!”

 

The door slams shut. The whole house shakes.

 

“Steve?” You wobble up from the couch as fast as you can, shedding the blanket. Your foot catches on the fleece and you stumble. You wince as your knee collides with the floor. As you hoist yourself back to your feet, you scold yourself for wasting precious time.

 

You press your forehead against the cool window pane by the door and cup your hands around your eyes. The window gets reflective at night, and this is the only way you can see out of it with the lights on. You don’t want to exit the house, in case Bucky pulls out his knife and you need to lock yourself in and call for help.

 

Through your little patch of clarity, you squint at Steve and Bucky on your front steps. Your porch light struggles to illuminate what’s happening, while only half of the moon hangs in the sky tonight. The wind is picking up, gusting randomly. Bucky’s body is strong enough to stay solid in the wind, but his soft hair surrenders too easily. A lock blows in front of his eyes. Bucky flicks his head, but an errant strand finds its way back. The rest of his hair looks like a black halo of fire, sucking in the light instead of emitting it.

 

A weak beam from the porch light hits his brow and casts a shadow over his eyes. The only part of his face that you can really see is his mouth. His lips. Even the bluish tinge of the moonlight can’t hide their naturally flushed color.

 

His tongue darts out, a flash of dark, wet pink against his upper lip. He looks like he’s ready to fight.

 

Your jaw twinges, and you realize you’ve been biting down hard on your lower lip. You release it and look at Steve. He’s kind of got his back to the window, but you can tell his mouth is moving. He keeps clenching and unclenching his hands. He’s clearly agitated, but you can tell he’s trying to keep calm.

 

_What is he saying?_

Bucky tilts his chin up. You can see his eyes now. They’re almost as black as they were in the shadow; his pupils look like they’re taking over his eyes. Combined with the smirk curling across his face, he looks almost cat-like. Predatory.

 

His lips move quickly. You get a couple millisecond-long glimpses of his white teeth, of his tongue darting between them as he speaks.

 

He casts his gaze over to you. His smirk turns into a full-powered smile, but his eyes stay dark.

 

The heat builds up in your chest, rushes through your neck and pushes out of every pore of your face. Bucky and Steve’s image in the window becomes blurry, and you realize you’ve fogged up the glass with your increasingly labored breathing. Your mouth feels dry; how come your breath is coming out so _wet?_ You wipe away the condensation and try to breathe through your nose. Tiny sips of air.

 

You clear the glass just in time to see Steve thrust forward, his hand grabbing Bucky’s collar and his jaw clenching. He twists the fabric and yanks it towards him, but Bucky stays put. Steve’s pull is so ruthless, you can see the very top of Bucky’s chest above the stretched fabric.

 

The window is starting to smell like your breath, but your mind conjures the exact scent of Bucky’s chest. It fills your nose so strongly, it’s all you can smell. That, plus your small, unsatisfying breaths, leaves you swaying with dizziness.

 

 _Should I intervene? Or let them handle it?_ Questions swirl in your head, almost as potently as the imagined scent of Bucky Barnes.

 

It’s been so long. Damn, you worked so hard to try to get over him, seeing him now is like tearing off a scab one day too soon. So painful, and so bloody messy.

 

_Why is he here? What does he want with me?_

You swallow what feels like a peach pit, or maybe that’s just a knot from your stomach that shot up and stuck in your throat. You can’t lie; you have to admit to yourself that you’re wondering: d _oes he want me? And… do I want him?_

 

Bucky’s brows are knit together and he’s nodding slowly, staring at Steve like he’s trying to swallow him with his dark gaze.

 

Steve’s other hand clenches and stays that way. His elbow draws back, like he’s itching to punch out every one of Bucky’s perfect, square-ish teeth.

 

This is too much. You have to go out there. You’ll call the police if you have to, but you can’t have any bloodshed on your front steps. Or on your conscience.

 

You dart over to the door and grasp the handle, barely pulling when all of sudden the door _whooshes_ open, flooding your kitchen with cool night air and the hot scent of –

 

“Steve,” you breathe. “What --?”

 

Steve grabs you and you barely get a glimpse of his reddened face before he pulls you into his arms. Your hands shoot out for balance and you end up grabbing onto his waist. He pushes his face down onto yours, his open mouth colliding against your lips and muffling the rest of your question.

 

 _Is Bucky leaving?_ You try to pull your face away, but Steve is holding you fast against him. Part of you wants to melt into his strong arms, but another part of you wants to know what’s provoking this outburst of sexual energy. Is he protecting you from Bucky? Is he taking out his anger? Does he feel threatened and is trying to prove himself to you?

 

You could have relaxed and enjoyed the moment a few hours ago. A few weeks ago. But not now. Now, you need answers.

 

Steve shoots his hands up from your waist to your head, applying a steady amount of pressure the whole way up. He weaves his fingers through your hair, keeping your head pressed against his. You use this opportunity to pull your body away from him.

 

Just as you successfully create some distance between your crotches, you feel his hands on your waist. No, wait, his fingers are in your hair, how could they be on your waist?

 

Bucky kicks the door shut.

 

His nose grazes the back of your head, getting buried in your hair. “Hello, doll.” He locks his hands together against your belly button, and you wouldn’t be surprised if your hair is standing on end, for all the electricity flowing from his skin.

 

You want to respond, but Steve’s tongue is still in your mouth, stealing your ability to speak. _This doesn’t make sense. Two seconds ago Steve was defending me. How come he’s letting Bucky touch me?_

You’ve worked so hard to maintain a steady relationship with Steve. You don’t want to ruin it by acting on your instincts when it comes to Bucky. Because your instincts are screaming at you to press your ass against his –

 

Bucky slides his hands up your abdomen and almost, _almost_ , grazes your breasts, but he stops just before his fingertips get there. _Damn._

Your eyes open. _I don’t want him to touch me. I shouldn’t want him to touch me._

If vaginas could growl with hunger, yours would be doing that right now. You hate to be brutally honest with yourself but, although Steve is a fantastic kisser, your body has never responded this quickly, this heatedly, this _crazily_ , to anyone but…

 

Bucky’s leather-encased package brushes against your ass and stays there. There isn’t any pressure. The fucker is teasing you, taunting you, asking you: _don’t you want this?_

You refuse give in.

 

No, you just arch your ass up a little and increase the distance between your feet.

 

A low chuckle comes from the back of your hair. “Oh, _doll_ , what am I going to do with you.”

 

There is an unmistakable note of longing buried in his teasing tone. Is it possible that he missed you too?

 

Steve releases your mouth and you use the opportunity to swallow. You taste salt, and have to squeeze your eyes shut to avoid making a fool of yourself. “I don’t know. Ask my boyfriend.”

 

Steve’s eyes widen at your sharp tone. He’s heard you speak like that before to other people and he knows to get the hell out of the way when you unsheathe that attitude.

 

Bucky presses his lips against your ear and you feel him smirk. He laughs, clearly not intimidated by you in the slightest. “Excellent idea.”

 

Steve’s gaze shifts away from you and you assume he’s making eye contact with Bucky. _Do something_ , you want to scream.

 

Bucky tightens his grip on your waist and flips you around, sending your blood into a tornado. You stumble, your hands shooting up to help keep your balance. They end up pressed against Bucky’s chest. He uses the momentum to pull you into his arms.

 

You glance down, too furious and too helpless to stare directly at his eyes. Your breasts are pressed against your hands, and your hands look tiny against his broad, hard chest. The leather of his uniform is warm, like he’s been wearing it all day, giving it time to melt around the contours of his muscular body. Your fingers curl and you dig just the tips of your nails into him. You’ve regained your balance by now, but you’re still leaning against him, because it feels so good. And he’s holding you so tightly.

 

Steeling yourself, you look up at him, making sure to drain the emotion from your gaze. You need armor just as much as he does.

 

It doesn’t matter. He’s staring down the low neckline of your shirt. “So, Captain, what should we do with her?”

 

_Bullshit. Steve’s going to shut this down faster than you can say –_

“I want her to be happy. Just be gentle.”

 

You snap your head around and strain to look behind you at Steve. “Gentle?”

 

Bucky laughs at your outburst. He tears his gaze away from your cleavage and lowers his head down to you. “He doesn’t know you like I do, doll.” His voice is deep and breathless, like he’s carving a secret in chocolate. “I know you very well.”

 

You shiver, but you keep your tone firm. “You don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

 

“Oh really?” Unable to resist a challenge, Bucky nips at your earlobe and continues in a voice barely over a whisper. “I know what you taste like. I know what you sound like when you’re falling apart against my tongue. And I know I have to have you again. Tonight.”

 

 _No no no no –_ The sirens are going off in your head. This guy is bad news, and you’re not going to let his voice, his hands, his eyes…

 

You knew it was a bad idea to look directly at him. His pupils are blown. His lids are heavy and colored as though he stayed up too late and then rubbed them with raspberries. He’s like Medusa, only he turns you into mush instead of stone.

 

“Sorry to disappoint you.” Your voice is steady but breathless. Your face flushes, and you hope he can’t tell how turned on you are. You feel like months of pent-up longing is begging to burst out of you. But Bucky isn’t the right person. Steve is the right person. He’s your boyfriend. And who the hell is Bucky?

 

You push away from Bucky, but you feel Steve press his groin against your ass. He may as well have shoved a brick between your ass cheeks. _Holy hell, was he this hard before?_ Steve’s arms float forward and encompass you on either side, his hands finally coming to rest on Bucky’s biceps.

 

“You’ve never disappointed me.” Bucky’s staring right at you, and you know he’s not teasing you anymore. He actually sounds serious. The inner edges of his eyebrows flicker upwards. He trails his hands upwards, the tips of his fingers brushing your breasts, to your face. He cups your jaw and runs his thumb gently along your lower lip. Your lips part slightly, partly because of his touch and partly because…

 

_He is so beautiful._

You can feel the sweat forming between your legs, under your arms, down your back. You catch the scent of arousal, and you don’t know who it’s coming from. Bucky’s familiar, dark, spicy scent is filling you and it’s so hard to concentrate for too long on any one thing…

 

Your eyelids feel heavy, and you begin to melt against Bucky as though you’re his second skin, like his leather uniform.

 

Bucky nods once at Steve.

 

Steve whips you into the air, into his arms. Your feet leave the ground permanently. You shriek and grab for Steve’s neck so you don’t come crashing down. “What the f--?”

 

“Take her to the bedroom.” Bucky’s voice rings with the authority of a sergeant, and Steve obeys like they’re in the army together. And you’re their mission.

 

* * *

 

The doorbell rings. You gasp, “The pizza.”

 

“Fuck the pizza.” Bucky draws out the syllables, his breath hitting the inside of your naked thigh.

 

The back of your head is resting in Steve’s lap. You glance up at him, but he doesn’t seem to have heard you. He seems transfixed by Bucky’s sexy-as-hell voice, as if he’s thinking, _yeah, let’s fuck a pizza, sounds good._

It’s the first time you’ve seen two guys turn away food. And the first time you’ve seen Steve so down for anything, and so _aroused_.

 

You have to take advantage of it. You reach your hands up and pull Steve’s face down for an upside-down kiss.

 

Bucky growls. “Watch.”

 

You break away. “You watch.”

 

His lower lip pouts out. He grabs your thighs and tugs you towards him so your head slips off Steve’s lap. “You can have him. Later. When I say so.” He pushes your calves up into the air and massages them. “Right now, you’re mine.”

 

Your gaze burns into his. He is being so frustratingly bossy. You wouldn’t even be lying here in your bra, shirt, and underwear if it hadn’t been for Bucky ordering Steve to hold down your arms as he stripped off your pants.

 

Bucky gives another look to Steve. Before you can prepare yourself, Steve grabs your wrists and pins them above your head in his lap. His grip isn’t nearly as biting as Bucky’s. You could break free, maybe, and then you could kick Bucky in the face. But there is something oddly freeing about having your hands restrained; you don’t feel like it’s your fault for surrendering to Bucky’s commands.

 

 _Is that how Steve feels too? Is it easier for him to let go when he surrenders control to someone else?_ And if so, why couldn’t that someone else be you?

 

Bucky lowers his face to your crotch, like a cat about to pounce. His hands slip over your underwear, hovering by the waistband, his fingers curled like question marks. _Is he going to rip my underwear down my legs? Or is he just teasing?_

His hands slowly disappear beneath the hem of your shirt, following the curve of your hip, all the way up your ribs, until he’s almost tickling your armpits. You can’t help it; you’re so ticklish, you burst into giggles. And his cold left hand isn’t helping. You bite your lips together, trying desperately to stop laughing. Partly because you feel like a kid whenever someone tickles you – and you always prefer to feel like a woman – and partly because the smile on your face sends the wrong message: that you might be enjoying this. Which you aren’t, of course.

 

Even though you can’t count how many mornings you’ve woken up frustrated that Bucky infiltrated yet another one of your dreams.

 

Bucky’s hips sink fluidly down to the mattress, then flow forward as he strokes his package up your crotch. Steve lets out a groan; from his angle, he can probably see Bucky’s ass clenching and the muscles of his back contracting.

 

Bucky flips your shirt up over your head, but he doesn’t take it off all the way. He leaves it so your chest is exposed, but your face and arms are covered. He moves his pelvis fluidly again, stroking with more pressure this time. The thick leather of his pants is no match for the thin cotton of your underwear. You can feel the texture of the leather against your sensitive skin. When he pulls back slightly, the crotch of your underwear clings to your skin. _Fuck, am I already that wet?_

Soft lips come down against the corner of your mouth through the fabric of your shirt. Your lips part uselessly through the barrier. Bucky kisses you again, this time his lips perfectly matched to your own. His breath – or maybe your breath, you can’t tell – heats up the cotton between your lips. You have to remind yourself to keep your tongue in your mouth.

 

Steve lets go of your wrists. _Now’s my chance_ , you think, or at least your rational side forces you to think that. The animalistic side of you is too swept up by Bucky’s kisses, which feel even softer and more foreign through your shirt.

 

Steve reapplies his grip. It’s almost painful this time. You wince. Why is he being rough?

 

Warm hands slip inside the cups of your bra, caressing your nipples gently. You feel fingertips on the underside of your breasts. Either Bucky dislocated his hands and is caressing you upside down, or…?

 

It has to be Steve who is feeling your breasts. That means Bucky must be the one holding your wrists down. Bucky sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, dampening the fabric between you, making it increasingly more difficult for you to straighten your thoughts. You feel icicles of anxiety form in your gut. Nothing is more important than your ability to think straight. Which is why Bucky is so dangerous.

 

He slips his hands down from your wrists and grabs the hem of your shirt, yanking it the rest of the way off your head. The move surprises you and your mouth opens, leaving it vulnerable to Bucky’s tongue and teeth as soon as you’re exposed to him. Without the barrier, he scrapes your lip with his teeth, fills your mouth with his tongue, licks your upper lip with just the tip…

 

You moan, frustrated and dying a little on the inside. You want him to let go of your hands so you can pull his hair. _This is what you do to me_ , you’d say as you’d take fistfuls of his soft hair and watch him wince.

 

“This has to go,” Bucky says, and you’re not quite sure what he’s referring to until you feel Steve’s hands slide underneath your back to the clasp of your bra.

 

Bucky stares at your bra like he’s waiting for a YouTube video to finish buffering. Steve fumbles with the clasp. Your cheeks flush as a wave of sympathy hits you; Steve can’t see the clasp, and you have trouble undoing your bra sometimes too.

 

 _Whoa whoa whoa, he doesn’t deserve my sympathy. I never gave him permission to take off my bra._ You look up at Steve. “Leave it on.”

 

Steve’s eyes look trustworthy, even from upside down. He nods at you, then gives a steely gaze to Bucky.

 

Bucky glares at Steve, and you almost think it’s over. You’ve won.

 

“If that’s how you feel,” Bucky says to Steve. “I guess you won’t mind if I --”

 

The panic returns to Steve’s eyes. “Wait. Okay.”

 

You stare at Steve, trying to read him. His hands return to the clasp. He tugs on it as he becomes more and more frustrated, although you can tell he’s trying to stay calm.

 

You’re so focused on Steve that you don’t register Bucky’s impatience until he huffs, “Jesus Christ,” and rolls his eyes in what is undeniably one of the sexiest displays of attitude you’ve ever seen. Bucky yanks Steve’s hands away from your bra and back up to your wrists. You glance up to see Steve’s face redden; he’s avoiding eye contact with both you and Bucky.

 

Bucky’s hand flies to his side and you don’t think anything of it until –

 

A glimmer of silver swoops down to your chest. “Hey!” You stare at the knife. “What are you --?”

 

He wedges the knife under the bridge between the cups of your bra. Your face crumples as you anticipate the sting against your flesh, but Bucky is careful not to cut you. With a single flourish, he cuts the cups apart and your bra springs open.

 

“That was expensive!” You can’t fucking believe what he just did.

 

With two more quick slashes, he cuts the straps off and leaves your bra in pieces. “Doll, you’re too beautiful to wear crap like that.” He slides the knife back into its holster.

 

 _It’s not crap_ , you want to say, but you can’t help but linger on his words. _You’re beautiful._

He grabs your shirt off the bed, the garment looking way tinier in his grasp than it did in yours when you put it on this morning. You feel like Alice in Wonderland and everything is shrinking. Your clothes, your resistance…

 

But not Bucky’s package. Holy hell, he should just unzip his pants and end his misery. It looks like he’s trying to keep a tiger in a hamster cage.

 

Steve strokes your wrists, as if he sympathizes with the loss of your bra. _I wouldn’t have cut your bra_ , you can practically hear him saying. You squeeze his wrists with your hands.

 

Bucky folds your shirt carefully, lengthwise. “Do you know what it’s like to wear a mask?”

 

Steve squeezes your wrists, and you’re not sure whether he’s answering your squeeze or whether there was something in Bucky’s tone that got him. You stay silent, not wanting to reveal any more of yourself than you already have.

 

Bucky leans forward and drapes the fabric over your eyes. “You should try it sometime.” He wraps the ends of the shirt behind your head and lifts your head up so he can tie the two ends together. He smoothes the fabric over your face so you can’t even see down your nose. He’s rendered you completely visionless.

 

Steve massages his hands down your arms and ribcage. You hear his arms rub against Bucky’s as Bucky cups your jaw and brings his lips to your ear. “I get so sick of taking orders. Sometimes…” He licks his lips and you feel the heat from his tongue against your ear. He places a wet kiss behind your earlobe. “I just need someone to control.”

 

 _God, how does he get his voice to sound like that?_ You turn your head away, but Bucky finds your lips and kisses you. All you have is your dignity, and you have to fight to hold on to it, despite Bucky doing everything in his power to slowly convince you to give it up. _I belong to myself,_ you repeat your mantra from earlier.

 

There are four hands roaming over you and, with the exception of Bucky’s metal hand, you’re finding it hard to keep track of which ones belong to whom. You hear the bed creak softly and Bucky and Steve move around; the weight distribution on the bed changes, and you assume that they’re both roughly in front of you now. Bucky lifts his mouth away from you, gasping, and presses his lips against your pulse in your neck. His lips almost feel cool – that’s how hot your pulse is.

 

Steve kisses your lips, and you know it’s him because Bucky is still sucking on the side of your neck and this second mouth tastes slightly different.

 

A single finger strokes the crotch of your underwear. It’s so gentle yet so expert that you can’t decipher who it belongs to. “Fuck,” you moan into Steve’s mouth. With your hands free now, you need to touch someone, need to compensate for your loss of sight. Your hands connect with a shoulder and a hard chest. You open your palms to feel the chest. Steve has tiny hairs on his chest, while Bucky keeps his waxed, right? This chest feels… not totally hairless?

 

The metal hand clasps your hand, bringing it away from the chest and up towards someone’s mouth. It’s got to be Bucky’s mouth; his possessiveness wouldn’t allow him to let Steve kiss your hand.

 

You feel your pinky finger slowly get sucked into his hot, wet mouth. Your heart jumps. If it’s Steve, you know he’ll be gentle, but if it’s Bucky, you know he’s crazy enough to bite your finger off.

 

You feel molars graze your finger. You hold your breath.

 

The metal hand slides your finger out, only to push it back in along with your ring finger. You feel the weight distribution on the bed shift again, this time between your legs.

 

“Oh my fucking God. Bucky.” Steve sounds like the air’s been stolen from his lungs.

 

The logical side of your brain tells you, _your fingers are in Bucky’s mouth._ The emotional side of your brain twinges with jealousy. Steve sounds sexy as hell, but how come he wasn’t cursing like that with you?

 

The sinking feeling returns to the pit of your stomach. You don’t have too long to dwell on it, though, as Steve’s head drops to your breasts fast enough to suggest that Bucky pushed him there.

 

“Start sucking.” Bucky sounds like he owns the world.

 

Steve huffs against your breast. He traces a circle around your nipple, his tongue barely escaping from his mouth and his lips feathering against you.

 

“God, yes,” you cry out, your legs tensing. Your thighs collide on either side of a firm body. Your hands twitch and you reach them out, your right hand cupping Steve’s head.

 

Your left hand hovers in the air, feeling totally alone, until Bucky pushes his head into your palm, much like a cat would. You open your hand to sink your fingers into his hair, and he rubs your palm with his head. He traces the waistband of your underwear with his metal hand, and then he –

 

Oh my God. He _purrs._

 

Your breath catches in your throat.

 

You don’t feel lips on your nipple anymore; Steve must have lifted his head. You can hear his labored breathing.

 

“Did I tell you to stop?” Bucky removes his metal hand from your pelvis. You hear a _slap_ and then Steve cries out. “Keep sucking. I want her nipples redder than your ass, Captain.”

 

You can’t help but wince empathically for Steve. Did Bucky actually spank him? _Damn this blindfold!_ Steve’s mouth lands on your other nipple this time, and he keeps your other breast warm with his hand. You arch your back, pressing your breasts against Steve’s face, and you hear Bucky groan.

 

The metal hand returns to your pelvis. Bucky exhales hotly against the inside of your thigh, right where your leg meets your crotch.

 

You can’t help it. You release another cry. “Bucky, please, don’t do this to me. I need you to fuck me, or – please – just, don’t…” Your voice crumbles as Steve begins to suck your nipple.

 

“Don’t what?” Bucky’s voice isn’t at all muffled by your underwear and this frustrates you to no end.

 

“Don’t tease me,” you whimper helplessly, which also frustrates you. You thrust your pelvis up, but he must have moved his face away because you grind against nothing but air. You feel like you’re about to cry; you’re exhausted, physically and emotionally.

 

“Tease you? I couldn’t if I tried.” His voice is caramelized sugar dripping all down your pussy.

 

You reach out for him again, but he evades your hands, and you have to settle for caressing Steve’s head and neck. _Settle? No, I’m not ‘settling’ for my steady boyfriend. I have to put a stop to this. What’s wrong with me?_

“I haven’t tasted pussy in so long.” Bucky slurs his words and if you didn’t know better, you’d think he was literally starving. “So damn long, doll.” His nails bite into your ass.

 

Your eyes snap open beneath the blindfold. _Does that mean he hasn’t had another girl since me?_ Your heart squeezes. _Was he really waiting for me?_

 

 _Or does he only want me when he can’t have me?_  You gulp back the tears, wishing you knew the answer. You’re so exhausted from disappointment, from giving yourself away to people and feeling depleted after.

 

You can’t overpower Bucky at a time like this – or any time, really. But you can exert a small amount of power over what happens to you. “Steve, kiss me,” you breathe.

 

Steve releases your nipple and you guide his head to yours. You bury your tongue in his mouth.

 

Bucky bites the inside of your thigh. You wince, but you keep your hand firm behind Steve’s head. You won’t be easily swayed, especially not by a little pain.

 

“Does she taste delicious, or what,” Bucky murmurs, poking the tips of his fingers beneath the waistband of your underwear. He pulls it down and back up again a few times, as if he’s not sure how long he wants to torture you.

 

He strokes his nose up your pussy through the fabric, kissing just above your clit when his nose slips off.

 

You gasp and bite Steve’s lip accidentally. “Sorry,” you whisper.

 

Steve strokes your hair back. “Didn’t hurt, don’t worry.”

 

“I’m sorry too, Steve.” Bucky doesn’t sound entirely genuine. He spreads his large hands over your thighs and uses his thumbs to massage the creases between your legs and crotch. “Sorry you’ll never get to do this.”

 

Bucky’s words leave you confused, until he shoves his face in your pussy. You feel his teeth just above your clit through your underwear.

 

“Fuck, _Bucky_ ,” you scream, digging your nails into Steve’s scalp.

 

Bucky opens his mouth against your crotch and licks up your pussy, soaking your underwear even more. He vibrates his tongue against your clit, his teeth randomly scraping just above and below. You’re thankful for the cotton barrier, otherwise that might be just a little more pain than you could tolerate. The use of his teeth makes you nervous – _he’s not going to do that on my bare skin, is he? If he bites my clit, I’ll bite his balls off._

Oh my God, will Bucky make you suck his cock tonight?

Bucky’s mouth is driving you crazy. Your legs have a mind of their own; you can’t stop squirming. With a huff of impatience, Bucky grabs your calves and thrusts them up into the air, keeping them in place.

 

Steve angles his head to look at Bucky eating you out. He lets out a curse word under his breath.

 

If you don’t keep something against your mouth, you’ll wake up the entire city with your screaming. “Steve, put your – Oh my God, _fu-u-uck_. Yes.” Steve doesn’t move to kiss you again, so you grab the nearest object – Steve’s arm – and insert it into your mouth to muffle your screams.

 

Bucky moves his mouth to lick either side of the crotch of your underwear. Right against your bare skin. You’re almost crying, it feels so good. You can’t tell the difference between your wetness and his saliva anymore. You’re one messy puddle of everything that is wrong with the both of you.

 

He pushes your underwear aside, too impatient to properly rip it off your legs. He buries his lips in your soft skin, using the pads of his fingers to ply you apart so he can thrust his tongue deeper inside.

 

“James Buchanan Barnes, you _fucking_ \--” Miracle? Asshole? You can’t decide. And you’re too much of a mess to determine which is the better choice.

 

“Whoa. Hey.” Steve sounds alarmed. At first you think it’s because of your language, until you hear the _shing_ of metal unsheathing.

 

You feel your underwear being yanked. And then there isn’t any fabric on your crotch.

 

There’s enough sweat on your blindfold – you don’t know if it’s entirely yours, or whether it’s condensed from the humidity in the room – to make you itching to rip it off and see what the fuss is. “What?” Your tone reflects Steve’s concern.

 

“He just cut your panties to shreds,” Steve says.

 

You sit up as best you can, even though Bucky’s still got one hand holding your leg up in the air. “Are you kidding?”

 

You hear metal being sheathed. You wait to hear some sort of explanation or – God forbid – an apology from Bucky for ruining your favorite pair of underwear.

 

You break out in a cold sweat as you realize a knife was probably an inch away from all that is precious to you. Your abdomen starts to hurt from holding yourself up, so you lay back down. “New rule. No knives in the --”

 

Bucky plies your sensitive skin with his slippery fingertips and sucks your clit into his mouth.

 

You moan, biting your lip to stifle yourself, and reach your hands out. Steve is shifting on the bed, and you can’t quite make contact with him. He sits behind you and places your head in his lap.

 

Bucky tears his mouth away from you, gasping. “Let him hear what you sound like when I give you exactly what you need.”

 

You try to pull Steve’s face down to yours so you can muffle yourself with his kisses, but he doesn’t budge. You whimper, and put your own arm into your mouth instead, almost piercing your skin with your teeth.

 

“Hold her arms.”

 

Steve complies, securing your hands by his sides.

 

“Oh my God, you fucking – Bucky – I swear to --” Your screams hitch up an octave as he slips a finger into your entrance.

 

He’s officially ruined your life.

 

He keeps adding fingers, some of them metal, some of them human. When he speaks, he lets his wet fingertips vibrate over you in place of his tongue. “Come for me, doll. I want to hear you.”

 

You let out another scream, then a whimper as you listen to what you sound like and determine you are the weakest human being on the planet.

 

Your helplessness fuels Bucky even further. His voice sounds like it’s on fire. “I want to feel it all over my face, so I can untie that shirt from your head --”

 

There are no words. You’re crying like a kitten tripping on acid.

 

“-- and let you watch Steve lick your come off my lips.” His last word is muffled as he buries his mouth back in your pussy, coaxing you to the edge.

 

Your entire body tenses. If it weren’t for Steve holding your arms, you’d thrash around way more violently than you already are. Bucky seems to have predicted your reaction; he grabs your thighs and presses them against either side of his head. No matter where you thrust your pelvis, his head stays flush against you. He keeps eating you, riding out your orgasm with you.

 

You come longer and louder than you ever have before. For the first time, you’re grateful for the blindfold. You don’t have to worry about Bucky’s life-ruining face, nor the possibility that Steve looks guilty or sad for not being able to make you come like this. You don’t have to worry about anything. You’re wrapped up in a dark cloud of…

 

Peace.

 

Your body finally sinks into the mattress. Bucky releases you, a low gasp escaping his lips.

 

“Steve.” Bucky’s voice is ragged. “Get over here.”

 

The metal hand rips the shirt away from your face, just in time to see Steve practically leap over to Bucky with his tongue out.

 

You sit up on your elbows. Or at least try to; you’re wobbly still. As your vision clears, you watch as Steve cleans every last bit of you from Bucky’s face. Your gaze falls. Both men are kneeling, and they both have erections that look like they’re about to take over the world.

 

Bucky catches you staring and winks at you. Then he looks at Steve. “Still hungry?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Microsoft Word wanted me to correct “bra in pieces” to “brain pieces”. See, this is why I’m terrified of computers taking over the world)


	7. Help Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments, kudos, bookmarks, and all-around internet love! I'm so happy you guys are enjoying this -- when I wrote the first chapter, I thought it would just float around in cyber space like Tom Hanks and Wilson in the ocean. Growing a beard.
> 
> Er... you know what I mean.
> 
> Trigger warnings apply to this chapter too, most notably the non-consensual blowjobs. This fic is a circus of triggers. Please note, I don't do any research in terms of actual, realistic portrayals of anything. Ever. Haha, I think that covers it. But my point is, don't try any of this at home.
> 
> By the way, I just finished watching all the Sherlock episodes on Netflix. And now I'm seriously Cumberfucked.
> 
> One last note: I'm still in the dark as to what SebStan's fangirls are called. I hope I don't sound like a loser but... I think Sebby-Bears would be a cute name... ^_^

Steve’s eyelids lower. He looks Bucky up and down, his eyes climbing up each and every one of Bucky’s abdominal muscles like they’re a ladder. “I think we’re done here.”

 

You’re still in your post-orgasm haze, but Steve’s words jerk you awake. His tone is incongruent with his dilated pupils, with the sheen on his forehead, and definitely with that massive…

 

Your stomach twists into knots. On the one hand, you’d really love to free Steve’s cock from its denim prison and ride it till he begs for mercy. But on the other hand, it’s important to respect his wishes. If Steve says you’re done, you’re done.

 

You glance at Bucky. His lips are red and obscenely shiny. His nostrils flare randomly, like he can’t get enough of the smell of sex in the air. You have to make a conscious effort to focus on what you’re trying to do: analyze his face for any hints that he’s going to comply or disregard what Steve just said. Bucky is so much stronger than you, it’s pretty easy for him to bend you to his will. But Steve looks just as strong as Bucky; if Bucky wants to overpower Steve, there’s definitely going to be more of a struggle.

 

 _Yeah, physical strength, that’s why I can’t help but surrender to Bucky_ …

 

Bucky tilts his head down ever-so-slightly, causing his hair to fall in front of his eyes. You wish more moonlight was shining through the window, or even that someone would turn the bedside lamp on, so that you could see his eyes more clearly. His voice is quiet but ragged. “But I’m not done with you.”

 

Steve’s eyes widen for just a second. _He isn’t actually surprised that Bucky’s challenging him, is he?_ You notice Steve’s shoulders clench, like he’s preparing to defend himself, but his face is still so open-looking, like he’s prepared for an attack but also… welcoming it at the same time. You shouldn’t be able to relate to the feeling. You feel a little sick to your stomach (and not just because you weren’t fed pizza when promised) as you think, _is this what my boyfriend and I have in common? The same gut response to the same man?_

Bucky’s eyes flicker to Steve’s shoulders, as if he’s noting the reaction too. Bucky’s eyelids lower and the corner of his mouth twitches. You know that look; you know he’s getting turned on. Any display of vulnerability or weakness always seems to push Bucky off the edge and right into hunter-mode. This is one of the few times you’ve seen him target someone other than you. As much as it is a relief, it’s also a power-trip by proxy.

 

Another knot forms in your stomach as you question your sanity. _This shouldn’t be a turn-on._ Just for this moment, you feel a little safer than you did before, knowing that you’re not his current target, although there’s no telling when that’ll change. Just for now, you’re a voyeur, comfortable enough on the bed to watch the same interaction that Steve watched mere minutes ago. _Is this why Steve didn’t try harder to stop him? Is it just too tempting to watch?_

No, there has to be another explanation; you aren’t a sadist, and you certainly aren’t a voyeur. The most perverted thing you’ve ever admitted to doing is putting French fries in your ice cream. _It’s just that Bucky and Steve are both so… hot._ Both shirtless, both wearing low-rise pants, they’re too good to resist.

 

The tip of Bucky’s tongue emerges to lick his upper lip and then his bottom one in the opposite direction. When he speaks, his voice is so hoarse it sounds painful. “I’m gonna _fuck_ your mouth.”

 

Steve’s eyebrows raise; his eyes widen too quickly for you to determine whether he’s surprised, aroused, or threatened. Or all three. He leans back and swings one leg off the bed.

 

Before he can escape, Bucky clamps his hands down on Steve’s shoulders and pushes him down onto the bed, almost on top of you. You let out a shriek of surprise and dart to the side so their combined weight doesn’t crush you.

 

Bucky shoves Steve up against the headboard. Steve’s head is at a right angle to his chest, which doesn’t look all that comfortable for his neck. With his metal hand, Bucky grips Steve’s wrists together and pins them against the headboard.

 

Steve’s arms stick out straight above him. Your gaze glides down his arms, swooping around the swells of his forearms and triceps, all the way down to the dark blond hair of his armpits. The hair in those two little caverns is perfect, just the right length – long and thick enough to suggest how much testosterone his body pumps out on a daily basis, but not a jungle – and visibly clean.

 

Key word being visibly; you can smell the sweet scent of excitement and fear coming from his armpits. You have to squeeze your legs together to keep yourself from attempting to shove Bucky off of Steve so you can have him all to yourself. There is so much masculine energy packed into your bedroom, the walls are threatening to burst.

 

Steve groans through gritted teeth. Bucky sits on Steve’s chest, dominating him. You wince, hoping Bucky isn’t sitting down with his whole weight. You know Steve is solid as a rock, but there’s only so much pressure a man can take. Even if he is Captain America.

 

You’re not blinking – your eyeballs are glued to Steve’s face. _No, I’m not watching this, I’m not a sadist._ You tug your gaze away.

 

Your eyes land on Bucky’s holsters for his knife and gun, each one strapped tightly around his thighs. He’s never used his gun in front of you before. As if Bucky isn’t intimidating on his own – the knife and gun may as well be icing. _There’s got to be a way to separate Bucky from his weapons…_

Bucky’s pants are pulled tight over his ass, which is inches away from Steve’s denim-encased erection. Steve’s entire body is rigid; his legs are stiff and his toes are curled. _My legs were moving when I was struggling; Bucky had to hold them in place. How come Steve isn’t moving his legs?_ Since Bucky doesn’t ever protect his head, Steve would only have to kick him in the head. It strikes you as a little arrogant for him to leave it unprotected. It could just as easily be carelessness, but that doesn’t seem like Bucky’s style. His lack of a helmet seems like he’s purposefully daring anyone to dominate him. Like he’s already planned exactly how he’ll separate your heart from your chest if you even try.

 

When you were making out with Steve and he said he wasn’t ready to go further, you stopped immediately. Now, Steve isn’t asking Bucky to stop, but he’s clearly uncomfortable, and he is struggling – at least, from the waist up. What should you do?

 

Bucky uses his right hand to unzip his leather pants. His erection springs free like a rosy-pink firework. Before your brain can analyze what you’re doing, you scoot yourself closer to him so you can view his cock from a better angle.

 

A _much_ better angle. _Holy fuck_. The air rushes out of your lungs. The scent of his excitement clings to his black pubic hair. The head of his cock is almost as flushed as Steve’s lips. The two are awfully close to each other.

 

Your eyes begin to dry out. You’re not blinking. Again.

 

_Steve said he was done. This needs to stop._

The sinking feeling in your stomach mixes with… something else. _Steve isn’t struggling nearly as hard as he’s capable of. And he held me down when Bucky had his way with me._

You suck a mouthful of air into your lungs, wishing the air was cold enough to sharpen your senses. The whole room smells like hot sex and the weight of it is concentrated on your chest.

 

“You blew my cock so good last time, remember, Captain?” Bucky would sound like he was sweetly teasing Steve if it weren’t for the huskiness of his tone. “You looked like you were about to come just from sucking my cock into the back of your throat --”

 

Steve squeezes his eyes shut and moans. The noise buries you deeper in your guilt. It sounds as though Steve is turned on, but you don’t trust your judgement in this haze. _Steve is crying out in pain, and I’m interpreting this as arousal? What kind of sicko am I?_

 

“—kneeling there in the bathtub, your knees aching. I don’t want you to ache this time. I’ll make it good for you. I’ll let you --” His tone hitches up, his voice almost cracking.

 

The break in his deep, dominant tone is like a little peek under his mask. Just when you think he’s cool and in control, he reveals himself and you can’t help but wonder if he’s nervous. If he needs someone to take care of him in his fleeting moment of weakness. Oh, if he’d let himself be weak around you, you’d know exactly how to take care of him. You’d make his soft parts harden and his hard parts melt like candy. _If only he trusted me…_

 

Steve’s eyes pop open. He peers up at Bucky, unable to crane his head up against the headboard. His eyes are beginning to go bloodshot, like the vessels are looking to the cool blue of his irises for relief. His lips part uselessly, as if every tiny muscle of his body is giving in to Bucky’s slow torture.

 

“-- come. _May_ be.” Bucky twists the word around in his mouth like it’s taffy, his lips curling into a smirk. He pushes his hips forward ever so slightly. His cock is so hard and straight, he doesn’t even have to use his hand to angle it.

 

Bucky rests the tip of his cock, the tiny bit of smooth skin below his slit, on Steve’s lower lip. Steve goes cross-eyed staring at it. The weight of Bucky’s cock pushes Steve’s lip down, revealing his bottom teeth.

 

“If you’re kind to me, I’ll be kind to you. But if you tease me…” Bucky inches his pelvis to the right, his cock dragging along Steve’s lip.

 

Steve peers up at Bucky again. His legs are beginning to relax, but the muscles of his arms are still tense. _Has he given up? Is he biding his time before he attacks?_

 

Your mouth is going dry. As you lick your lips, Bucky slides his gaze over to you. His concentration on Steve made you forget you were in the room with them. His sudden eye contact sends the blood rushing to your face in a wave of embarrassment. Even though Steve and Bucky know you’re there – you’re only inches away, thanks to your subconscious instincts to scoot closer to them – Bucky’s gaze makes you feel like you’ve been caught spying on them.

 

His smirk and a quick arch of his eyebrow suggest he knows just how embarrassed you are. And he’s reveling in it. When he speaks again, his eyes hold yours for a moment before he turns to Steve, as if he’s addressing the both of you _._ “… I promise you, I’ll be so cruel with you. I’ll bring you so close to the edge,” Bucky trails the back of his right hand down the side of Steve’s face so gently it makes you suspicious. “you’ll be crying for relief --”

 

Bucky clamps his hand down on the side of Steve’s neck, below his ear. Steve gasps and his nostrils flare, but his eyes don’t widen like you expect them too. Steve’s gaze is still burning into Bucky’s. _He hasn’t given up, not yet. And I have to fight too._

 

Bucky tilts his chin up so he’s looking down his nose at Steve. “-- and I still won’t give it to you. So be a sweetheart for me.” Bucky cocks his head in an imitation of compassion. _Or maybe there’s real compassion in there somewhere, under all that armor._ “And I’ll give you what you’re too proud to beg for.”

 

Bucky starts gyrating his hips ever so slightly, running the tip of his cock up and along Steve’s upper lip, then back down to his bottom lip. He keeps making those little circles, the friction torturing Steve’s lips.

 

Well, maybe not torturing Steve lips so much as torturing you. You bite your lips together. You can’t help but imagine what Bucky’s warm, smooth skin would feel like against your lips. You remember, months ago, how he crumbled so easily the moment you slid him into your mouth. The way you tasted a hint of the power that he must get so high on when he does this to you. To Steve.

 

Bucky casts another illicit glance your way. Your face heats up just as quickly as it did the first time. You think your body would learn eventually. Every time is like the first time with Bucky. “Watch what I’m gonna do to this punk.”

 

Steve’s a grown man – in more ways than one – but the way Bucky subtly degrades him is just _so_ …

 

\-- So not your style. You’re a respectful girl. You don’t think it’s sexy, and you certainly aren’t thinking about how it’d be even sexier if you were under Bucky right now, having him tell Steve to watch what he was gonna do with his _slut_ –

 

 _Oh my God, what’s wrong with me?_ “Let’s slow things down,” you say in what you hope sounds like an even tone. You’re not sure who you’re speaking to: Bucky or your inner pervert.

 

“I like the way you think, doll.” Bucky strokes his palm down the side of Steve’s face and then cups his jaw. He grazes the tip of his cock up Steve’s mouth, tugging his top lip up, revealing his teeth, and finally bopping Steve on the nose.

 

Steve moans and gulps. _Funny how Bucky trusts Steve enough to put his cock so close to his teeth._ How long can Bucky continue these risk-taking tendencies before it finally bites him in the ass?

 

A part of you can’t help but feel proud at being on the receiving end of Bucky’s congratulatory tone. _Since when did I start caring about his approval?_ You clear your throat. “I mean, I think you should --”

 

Bucky arches his back, leaning into Steve. He slips the head of his cock between Steve’s lips. Steve closes his eyes. The image is so strikingly beautiful, it wipes the words from your tongue.

 

But you need to maintain your strength. You may not be as physically strong as these men, but you do have strong morals. And it’s time to speak up. “Bucky,” you say sharply, but you heat up when you hear the breathless quality of your voice. “This has to sto--”

 

Bucky has his back fully arched now, his ass lifted high and tight. He tilts his head back all the way, his hair falling piece by piece off his face and behind his ears till it’s a dark cascade falling away from his face. His eyes drift shut. A long, slow groan floats out of him, loud enough to cut you off.

 

And loud enough to make your neighbors think you’re shooting a porno. _If I survive tonight, I’m going to get the weirdest looks tomorrow when I get the mail._

Bucky brings his head back up, his hair sliding over his ears. Your mouth hangs open, watching him press his face into Steve’s palms. The way that Bucky has Steve’s wrists clamped together, one of Steve’s palms is kind of covering the other one. Bucky presses a kiss into the fully exposed hand and then a slightly smaller, softer kiss onto the base of the thumb of the partially concealed hand. It’s like his kiss is whispering, _I know you’re shy, but I’ll coax you out of hiding. Just you wait, pet._

Or maybe that’s just your inner pervert talking again.

 

“I know you can take it, but I want to show my best girl what a gentleman I can be.” Bucky is speaking into Steve’s palms, like there’s a little microphone hidden in his nerves that’ll carry the sensuality of his tone all the way down to Steve’s ears. “Would you say I’m a gentleman, Steve?”

 

Steve’s eyes pop open and his brows furrow. You’ve never seen anyone look so disagreeable with a cock in their mouth, but Steve manages to pull it off. _Gentleman?_ you can practically hear Steve blurt out.

 

Bucky gasps sharply. His ass cheeks clench, like something stung his cock. Bucky grits his teeth together but then covers it up with a chuckle. “I couldn’t agree more.”

 

He shoves his cock into Steve’s mouth up to the hilt.

 

Steve gags, sputters. His eyes begin to tear. He sounds like he’s choking on Bucky’s cock.

 

You need to peel your eyes away from Steve. It’s too much.

 

Your eyes rest on Bucky’s holsters. And you know what you need to do.

 

Bucky’s ass relaxes. His eyes drift shut again. The tiniest of smiles plays across his face. “ _Fuck_ , Steve, I could fuck your mouth all night.”

 

You creep forward and straddle Steve behind Bucky. You gulp, steeling yourself. It’s hard enough to maintain your cool around Bucky normally; now that he’s beginning to lose control of himself inside Steve’s mouth, it’s next to impossible. You slide your hands down the sides of Bucky’s torso. You wonder if you should moan something like _keep going_ to Bucky. But you don’t want him to suspect your actions any more than he might be already. You glance behind you at the door, checking to make sure it’s open.

 

It’s closed.

 

Okay, so one more thing to worry about. But one step at a time. First step: _don’t fucking get caught –_

“What are you doing?” His voice is still ragged, but he’s stopped pumping himself.

 

Your hands freeze on Bucky’s hips. “I’m…” Thank fucking God he can’t make eye contact with you right now or you’d be dead.

 

“You wanna get closer to me?” His voice is softer now, and he sounds… hopeful. He brings his human hand behind him and caresses the inside of your wrists with the pads of his fingers.

 

The gesture makes you shiver. “Yes,” you answer honestly. You squeeze your eyes shut when you hear how weak you sound. _You’re crazy but I still want you, so I guess that makes me crazy too._ You snap your eyes open, not allowing yourself to drown in sentiment. You need to stay sharp – and yes, maybe a little crazy – if you’re going to pull this off.

 

Bucky’s still rigid, unmoving. He turns his face towards you over his shoulder, like he’s ready to surrender himself to you but he can’t quite bring himself to trust another person that much. You need to get him to trust you. Just for a few seconds, and then –

 

You slide your hands around his pelvis until your fingertips graze his coarse hair. You press yourself into his ass, into the bare, warm skin of his back, and wrap your fingers around the base of him. “I want to help you squeeze the juice out of this giant cock of yours.”

 

Shit, now your inner pervert really is speaking.

 

Bucky lets out a puff of air, like he wants to laugh but is too guarded to let himself. He thrusts into Steve’s mouth again.

 

Steve groans like it hurts. _Just wait, Steve,_ you silently promise.

 

As you’re wondering how to move your hands to his holsters without arousing suspicion, you can’t help but breathe in Bucky’s scent. Your face is pressed up against his back, and he smells so good. You inhale longer and deeper than anyone would consider necessary, causing your chest to expand and your breasts to push even harder against his back. There’s a hint of sweat on his back – not enough to be gross, thank god – but just enough to make you wonder what he tastes like from behind…

 

Your lips part. Before you can stop yourself, you bite into the back of Bucky’s shoulder. His skin is thick with muscle. He tastes fresh, salty, and _delicious_.

 

Bucky groans every time he thrusts. Your savage bite increases his volume. _He likes pain._

 

You moan, pulling your mouth away. You rest your cheek against him and admire the red teeth marks you’ve left behind. _Maybe he’s been searching for a girl strong enough give him what he needs._

Oh right, the plan. Fuck, you need to concentrate. “Oh, yeah, just like that, Bucky. Fuck. You’re amazing,” you breathe. Just as a distraction, of course. You need for him to get completely in the zone before you try anything.

 

Bucky thrusts himself harder into Steve’s mouth, but it’s your name that he groans. He says it slowly, like it pains him to wrap his mouth around it but he has to, because he’ll die without its taste.

 

You take a deep breath, preparing yourself. And you really shouldn’t have, because his fantastic scent goes straight to your head and makes you woozy. _This is for you, Steve_.

 

Both hands at once, you reach for his weapons. One hand grips the handle of his knife. The other grabs his gun. You yank as hard as you can. You bolt up from the bed.

 

Bucky’s reflexes are quick. He twists, trying to grab you with his human hand. He’d get a better grip on you with his metal hand, but he doesn’t want to release Steve. He gets a hold of you for only a second. It’s enough to make you trip and stumble off the bed.

 

Your back slams against the floor. As you struggle to get back on your feet, you point the gun at him. You have no fucking clue how it works. But he doesn’t know that. “Cock outta his mouth. Right now.”

 

Bucky doesn’t even glance at the gun. Even though you’re trying to look as intimidating as possible, you can’t help but feel a wave of fury at how sultry his gaze is. He looks like he’s trying to repress a smile, like he’s thinking, _there’s no way you’d shoot me, dollface._

But he complies with your order.

 

The moment he pulls the entirety of his length out, Steve is a sputtering, gasping mess. He chokes up a mixture of spit and precome onto his shirt. _I’m so sorry,_ you think as you wince.

 

“Now…” You don’t know what to do with the knife, so you hold it up as if you’re about to stab something.

 

Bucky looks at you like you’re a puppy playing with a tennis ball.

 

Your entire body heats up. Your mouth hardens. You gesture with the gun. “Go sit in the corner.”

 

Bucky’s eyebrows shoot up. He tilts his head. “Have I misbehaved?” He rises from the bed and stalks towards you. For an unarmed man, he’s certainly taking his time. He walks like he knows he’s going to get the weapons back, eventually, and he’s going to use every secret, forbidden way of getting exactly what he wants.

 

You step back jerkily. You reach behind you with your knife hand, attempting to grasp the door handle as you get closer to it. You can’t afford to look at Steve right now, not with Bucky threatening to pounce. But you really want to look at Steve and tell him with your eyes: _run._ You twist the door handle, careful not to cut yourself on the knife.

 

Bucky says your name again, slowly, teasingly, like you’re his pet. “I want what you have.”

 

“Then come and get it.” You swing the door open and you’re gone.


	8. Quench It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments, kudos, bookmarks, subscriptions, and for simply reading!

You have a better chance of winning the costume contest at Comic Con with your gold duct tape, cut-up garbage bag Loki outfit with Kleenex boxes for shoulder pads than you have of outrunning a trained killer.

 

Bucky could have ended it right there in your bedroom. He could have ended it in the hallway.

 

But he lets you run all the way to your front door.

 

He’s playing with you. You can tell by the way his shoulders sway that not only does he enjoy a challenge, he loves it when you resist him.

 

You have every intention of running out of the front door, of escaping him for as long as he’ll let you. You fling open the door. The cool night air hits you, hardening your nipples, and…

 

Oh yeah, that’s right – you’re naked.

 

Shit.

 

Bucky’s so close behind you, you can feel the heat from his smirk on the back of your neck. Not knowing what to do at this point, you throw the knife and gun into the street, as hard as you can. “Go. Get them.”

 

“So you can lock me out? I don’t think so.”

 

_That’s actually a good idea. Too bad he thought of it and I didn’t._ See, now this is why he’s a super soldier and you’re not. “But what if someone steals your favorite knife?”

 

He laughs, tilting his head back just enough to tempt you to gaze at his neck. His clavicles almost mirror the strong arrow of his jawline. He brings his head back down before you can really savor the image. “It’s not my favorite. I never used to have favorites, until…” He looks away. He brings a hand up to his cheekbone to brush away a stray lock of hair, as if he’s suddenly self-conscious.

 

A breeze sweeps in through the door, making you shiver. You feel your nipples harden even more, as if some unseen force is pinching them. You wrap your arms around the front of your body, being careful not to cross them in case Bucky takes that as a sign you’re being judgemental. You want Bucky to open up around you and you can’t risk any body language being misinterpreted. “Until what?”

 

Bucky’s eyes drop to your breasts as he watches you shiver. He reaches a hand forward. You lean in, expecting -- all right, _hoping_ – he’ll rub your shoulder. Everything about him – his bones, his muscles, his arm – is hard. You want to melt into him and feel secure in this warm shelter of a man. You could even warm up his metal arm, eventually. It would take some time but you’d be willing to sacrifice some of your body heat, just to feel his body wrapped around yours, the glorious weight of him pressing down on you.

 

Instead, Bucky grabs your upper arm and yanks you towards him, using his other hand to slam the door closed. The wind generated by the door sends the ends of his hair flying back. Your poor door slams so loudly, you flinch and a tiny, high noise shoots out of you. You can’t help it – you’re a slave to your instincts around Bucky.

 

“Until you.” His eyes darken. He grabs your waist and, before you have time to completely drown yourself in his eyes, he hoists you into the air and over his left shoulder. His metal arm is like a thick snake that wraps around you, squishing you into submission.

 

Upside down, your blood rushes to your face, leaving you with a feeling of immense pressure threatening to burst through your cheeks. You’re so high up, so tightly held, there isn’t anything you can do but scream.

 

“That’s right, I want to hear it. You’re mine.” He slaps your ass and stalks back into the hallway.

 

_Until you_. You grab onto his waist, not trusting him totally to keep you from falling. Your hair swings from side to side as you ride along with the sway of his shoulders. _Was that just a line to manipulate me? Or was he being genuine? Has he become emotionally attached to me?_ You curse yourself for always wanting to catch what runs away, to peek under every mask, and to tame what is meant to be wild.

 

_No, not tame._ There’s a part of you that you’ve been trying so hard to ignore, a part of you that’s wild, that can never be content with safety. A part of you that rejects the ‘right’ way of doing things. _I’m the one that’s meant to be wild. I cannot be tamed._

His cold arm; his piercing grip; his all-consuming, dominant nature. How can something so fear-inducing be comforting at the same time?

 

He kicks open the door to your bedroom. What is with these men and abusing your doors? _At least now the front door knows not to take it personally._

All you can see is Bucky’s ass. Even upside down, it looks like it’s totally pwning the force of gravity. When he enters the room, he stops and stands with his feet wide apart. As if anybody needs reminding that he’s the alpha male. Between his legs, you spot Steve’s feet on the floor at the end of your bed; he must be sitting. _Why didn’t he run when I gave him the chance!_? Your heart plops into your throat and beats louder. You can’t believe you pissed off Bucky for zero benefit.

 

“Hold her down. This doll needs to be broken.” Bucky throws you on the bed. You land on your back, yelping. Steve captures your arms gently in his large hands. “Flip her over,” Bucky orders. Steve complies, flipping you onto your stomach so swiftly that your face gets smushed into the sheets.

 

You turn your face to the side, gasping. Your hair tickles the corner of your mouth. You wish so desperately for the freedom to sweep it away. Before you can figure out what to do with your legs, Bucky grabs your hips and tugs your legs off the bed so only your torso is on the mattress. Even though your sheets are soft, the friction burns your skin. You scream, dizzy from being tossed around like his plaything.

 

Bucky plants his feet on either side of your calves. He pushes your legs together so firmly, they feel glued together, like a mermaid tail flowing off the edge of the bed. “You think you can steal from me, make me do what you want?” His metal hand sweeps up the curve of your hip and pushes down into the small of your back, his large hand making you feel tiny. You peek at him through your hair, trying to figure out where his human hand –

 

He slaps your ass. You gasp. A piece of hair gets sucked into your mouth. “Bucky,” you choke; the piece of hair jumps out.

 

He’s applying just enough pressure with his metal hand to the small of your back to make your ass stick out. His metal hand is strong enough to crush you, but you can’t help but feel almost… protected by his hold on you. _There’s no way to escape_.

 

You know you should be more terrified. It shouldn’t feel good to be punished against your will, to be…

 

Bucky slaps your other cheek, eliciting another scream from you. You twist your arms in Steve’s grasp, but he holds you down firmly.

 

“It’s never gonna work. Guns, knives, none of it matters. It’s never mattered.” Bucky strikes your ass again. Your scream turns into a moan as he delivers a matching slap to your other cheek.

 

You know what he’s doing to you. But you can’t even say the proper word in your head without feeling completely humiliated and vulnerable. Because then you’d have to face the fact that you might actually enjoy being… _spanked._

You shiver, despite the blood that refuses to leave your face. You must look like an open book to Bucky – flushed, hot, and yielding.

 

“I don’t want to fight. But you drive me to fight for you. I have to have you, doll.” He spanks you in the exact same spot, every time. The sensations compound, one on top of the other, until the pain is almost unbearable.

 

“Bucky,” you moan. You try to wiggle your ass away, but he’s got you pinned down so tightly, you can’t move. You turn your face into the mattress, whimpering and biting into the sheets.

 

He caresses your ass, plying you open with his thumb. “You’re meant to be mine.”

 

The bed is pressing against the lids of your closed eyes. There’s so much pressure, everywhere, you feel like you’ve been abducted and taken to a planet twice the size of Earth; you weigh too much to even move a finger. You whimper incoherently, needing to say something, if only to release the pressure within your body.

 

Bucky’s human hand strokes the back of your head, like he’s rewarding you for being such a good kitten. Gently, he coaxes your jaw so you’ll turn your face to the side, your cheek pillowed against the soft sheets. He kneels, placing his knees on either side of yours and presses his body down on top of you.

 

Now you feel like you’re on a planet three times the size of Earth. He’s so heavy. The thick bulge of his cock presses between your ass cheeks, like he’s bookmarking your pussy for later.

 

“There’s nothing you can steal from me that I wouldn’t give to you anyway,” he murmurs in your ear. He presses the backs of his hands against the bed and slips them under you, pushing the soft tissue of your breasts up towards your neck as he cups them. You can barely breathe – there’s no room for your lungs to expand. He’s determined to take everything from you, even your air.

 

“What about…” a tiny bit of air escapes you and you manage to sound coherent. You can’t get over what Bucky said – _almost_ said – after the first time you slept together. You squeeze your eyes shut, embarrassed about sounding sentimental, especially at a time like this. Your tongue presses against the back of your top teeth. “Lo --” You stop yourself. It’s too risky. You’re already trapped beneath him, it would be foolish to render yourself even more vulnerable.

 

“I know what you want.”

 

Whoops, there goes your autonomic nervous system. You pause to make sure your heart is still working. “You do?”

 

He gyrates his pelvis, his package coaxing your folds open. You moan, exhausted and riled up at the same time – definitely not in a state of mind to know the right thing to do.

 

_Damn, there’s that word again._ You’ve tried so hard to repress your resentment of the pressure to do the ‘right’ thing, the thing you ‘should’ do. You _should_ tell Bucky to fuck off. You _should_ resist him. Should shou ~~ld should~~ –

 

“You want this?” Bucky stands up, relieving the pressure. The air fills your lungs again. It’s glorious and maddening to be apart from him.

 

He tosses his leather pants on the bed, right beside your face. He thrusts his pelvis against your ass, his naked cock sliding down your pussy, slipping on your wetness.

 

“Oh, _fu-_ huck,” you cry, digging your nails into Steve’s wrists as hard as you can.

 

“Answer me. Tell me. Do you want it.” Bucky sounds like he’s rapping in time with his thrusts. _I’d never thought I’d actually appreciate rap --_

 

“Yes.”

 

Your eyes jerk open to look up at Steve, who just answered for you. Then you strain your eyes to glance at Bucky, who is drinking in Steve with his blown pupils. _Bucky was talking to me. Right? So how come Steve answered?_

“You think you’ve been good enough tonight, Captain? Better than my stubborn lil’ doll?” There’s a hint of teasing in his challenging tone as he addresses Steve. His eyes darken, and he deepens his voice. “Then quit begging for it, punk, and just fucking blow me.”

 

Steve leaps off the bed, releasing your arms. You barely have time to turn onto your back before Steve is kneeling at Bucky’s feet. Bucky grabs your ankles and sits between your legs on the bed. You try to yank your legs away from him, but it’s no use; it’s either lay back or wrap your arms around his abdomen to keep yourself sitting up. You choose the latter.

 

His body is hot against you. The wetness between your legs seals your crotch to the back of his ass.

 

You peer around his broad shoulders for a glimpse of Steve. There’s no one holding him down now, but he’s staring reverently up at Bucky. _Is that how I look at Bucky?_

 

Jealousy strikes like a needle full of botox between your eyes. _How come Steve doesn’t look at me like that?_ It’s like Steve’s forgotten you’re in the room. You feel as though he’s taken a spade and carved out your guts like a jack o’latern, leaving you feeling empty and inadequate while he cuts out a goofy face on your belly. _What’s wrong with me?_

 

Steve puts his hands on Bucky’s thighs. His expression changes from enslaved-puppy to a guarded glare. “This is the last time.”

 

Bucky laughs. “That’s what you said last time – _Ow_!”

 

Your ears perk up. Although it was months ago, you try to recall specifically what Steve said to Bucky while he was in your bathroom. Did he say that was the last time? Either way, it doesn’t look like that’s true anymore.

 

Steve swoops his head down to Bucky’s crotch. “I’m a man of my word. And if I find out you’re not, say goodbye to your nuts.”

 

“Go ahead, gum me to death, you ninety-six-year old – _Jesus_!” Bucky hisses. He lets go of one of your ankles to rub the skin where his thigh meet his leg.

 

Steve pulls his head away. “You’re right, I must be old, ‘cause I need glasses to see where your balls are.” Steve grabs under Bucky’s cock and tugs the skin of his ball sack. “Oh, here they are. Traveling lightly, sergeant?”

 

Bucky tips his head back so it’s almost resting on your shoulder. A low groan simmers up from his throat.

 

You’re staring at Steve as his hands work Bucky’s balls. How did sweet Steve go from obedient puppy to spitfire sex pistol? _I guess Bucky brings out the wild side in Steve too. I wish Steve could’ve been like this with –_

No, not could’ve. Could. Use the present tense. He’s still your boyfriend. He’s still yours… right?

 

You hug Bucky’s waist, needing something solid to make you feel less empty.

 

You glance over at Bucky’s face. He’s staring straight up at the ceiling, like he’s cursing God or the light fixture. “Oh, fuck, Steve. What did I tell you?”

 

Steve’s hand slips over Bucky’s cock, starts pumping him, purposefully keeping the pace erratic. Bucky groans, his flushed lips parting.

 

“You think I’m begging for it? You’re the one begging.” Steve shakes his head. “Honey and vinegar, Barnes. For once, try giving me the honey?”

 

Bucky starts massaging your legs up and down, your left leg freezing and your right leg burning. “Mmm, I’ll give you something,” Bucky murmurs, his lips curling. He trails his hands up your thighs, the muscles of his back squishing together like they’re all fighting for space. You can see the underside of his arms, the side you don’t usually see. There’s less hair on this side compared to the tops of his forearms. The lack of hair makes him look even more naked to you.

 

He stops just short of your crotch, the area you were so sure he was aiming for. Not that you wanted him to touch your crotch. Just seemed like the logical thing to do. Because, you know, Bucky always does the logical thing. Like break into your house.

 

_Yup, no flowers for me, thanks, I’ll just take a criminal who likes having his ball sack tugged._

Fuck, Steve is really giving it to Bucky. _If anybody deserves the title of The Weiner Soldier, it’s Steve._

 

You’re so distracted by your thoughts, you don’t realize Bucky’s hands are moving until his metal thumb slips inside your pussy. You gasp, chilled.

 

As quickly as he slipped inside you, he pulls his thumb out and replaces it with the palm of his human hand, like he’s trapping the chill inside you and trying to keep you warm at the same time. He turns his head to the side so his chin is over his left shoulder and makes eye contact with you. He tilts his chin up slightly, like he’s challenging you to look away.

 

Uh huh. Like you stand a chance. You can hear your hormones taunting your brain cells: _FAY-UHHL._

He slowly brings his thumb to his mouth, the pad of his thumb facing up. Moonlight bounces off the top of his silver deltoid and kisses his flushed lips. He sucks his thumb between his lips, his lids heavy. _Wow._ You have to concentrate on your breathing so you don’t sound like a Neanderthal with asthma.

 

His thumb emerges just as slippery as when it went in. He drags it out until just the very tip is between his teeth, and then he grins at you.

 

Your eyes are burning; you don’t think you’ve blinked since he pushed his thumb inside you. _He’s dangerous. It’s all part of his plan. Don’t let yourself give in so easily._ Your brain cells are trying so hard to fight back.

The tip of his thumb pops out, as if by accident. He keeps his loose fist in front of his mouth, partially hiding his smile. “I’ll never get over the way you taste.”

 

_Guhh, guhguh_ – Your scrambled thoughts leak out between your legs as you practically collapse in on yourself _._ You’re so thirsty. He’s burning you up. You gulp, but there’s nothing to swallow.

 

_But what happens after?_ Bucky seems content to swallow you up in pleasure, but you need to know where this is going. What is Steve’s intention for tonight? What is Bucky planning? You tried to save Steve, but he didn’t want to be saved. Should you attempt to save yourself?

 

It would be so much easier to give in…

 

Steve kisses the tip of Bucky’s cock and then sucks the head into his mouth. Bucky squeezes his eyes shut and bites down on his fist, groaning.

 

You don’t consider yourself an ultra-competitive person, but there’s something in the way that Steve pulls Bucky’s attention away from you that makes a part of you just a little competitive. _Is this what Bucky wants? Two people devoted to pleasing him? What a selfish –_

Although, if you’re going to be honest, you have to admit that’s kind of what you want too. And not because you’re greedy, but because Bucky and Steve are so different, how could you possibly be expected to choose?

 

Your stomach is so knotted, your insides probably look like spaghetti with way too many meatballs. You’re too anxious; there’s no way you’ll be able to relax enough to enjoy the sight of Steve sucking Bucky’s cock deeper… deeper… into his mouth.

 

Okay, so maybe it is hot. But it’s not enough to dissolve the meatballs of anxiety. You’re gripping Bucky’s waist so hard, you can feel the sweat forming under your hands.

 

Bucky’s brows knit together, his face crumping as he groans, louder, like he can’t help it. He keeps his head turned towards you as much as possible, like he wants you to watch him fall apart. He leans against you, his back pressing against your breasts. His weight is just a little more than you can handle. To keep yourself upright, you sit on your feet and press your chest against him.

 

God, his pectoral muscles are beautiful, sheening with sweat, heaving with his breaths. He’s panting in time with Steve’s mouth, the two of them increasing in intensity as Steve sucks Bucky’s soul out of his cock. With every pull of Steve’s mouth, Bucky sounds less like a human and more like a beast.

 

You’re too tiny in comparison to Bucky, but you try your hardest to hold him upright as his muscles give way. He reaches behind him and grabs your hips, his fingers sinking into your soft flesh. His head rests on your shoulder. It feels so satisfying, even though it’s crushing you, to have him lean on you like this. You bury your nose in his hair. Random strands are damp with sweat. He smells so good. Your eyes drift shut…

 

His hair whips away from your mouth. His nose bops into yours. Catching you off guard, he kisses you. Hard.

 

Steve may have Bucky’s cock, but you own his body; it’s tensing and weakening against you. You run your hands up his abdomen, his pecs, looping your arms around him until your fingers graze his collarbone. You break away from his mouth to lick the pulse point in his neck. _I’ll never get over the taste of you, either._

Your competitive drive flares up again as you hear Bucky’s groans hitch up a register. Every little noise he makes reinforces you, tells you, _only you do this to me._  His fingernails dig into your skin and he calls your name. Your chest is on fire, and not just because Bucky’s hot sweat is searing your skin. Steve may unintentionally be making you feel inadequate, but you know one way to boost yourself back up again. _I’ll be the one to make Bucky come._

Needing his hair, your right hand flies out from under his arm and up to his head. You sit up so you can angle yourself to bite the flesh above his clavicle, needing to devour him, make him yours.

 

He bites the side of your neck, slurring your name. He secures his hands on your ass, keeping you pressed so tightly against him, you can hardly breathe. “Ah --” Bucky cries, sounding only a little helpless. You feel a wave of protectiveness wash over you, and you hold him even tighter in your arms. He’s all yours. _Is this how he feels about me?_ You press your ear against his throat, inhaling his scent and listening to the source of his cries.

 

Maybe he felt your protective urge spring up, because he quickly masks his cries with a hiss. His teeth pierce your neck, as if he hates you for even thinking he needs you to protect him. You know you should pull your neck away to save what’s left of your intact skin, but there’s a part of you that makes you stay put, that not only welcomes but revels in the exquisite pain that Bucky gives you.

 

Steve chokes. Your eyelids fly open just in time to see him struggle to keep his mouth around Bucky’s cock as a whitish mixture of semen and saliva trickle down his chin. As Steve gags, you wonder why he doesn’t just pull his mouth away completely. Maybe there’s a part of Steve that also feels competitive or hungry.

 

There’s no reason for you to be jealous that Steve is the one who gets to feel Bucky’s cock pulsating as he abandons himself to his orgasm.

 

Bucky’s hands squeeze your ass as he thrusts into Steve’s mouth. “Ah, yeah, take it. Take it, Steve. _Fuck --_ ”

 

You have to fight another wave of jealousy as Bucky calls Steve’s name. You know it’s useless to feel jealous, especially since Bucky is utterly unclaimable. He’s in your arms now, but you know he’ll never belong to you. He’ll never belong to anyone.

 

Your legs are starting to hurt from keeping yourself upright, from supporting Bucky’s weight. You scooch back on the bed, letting Bucky’s head fall into your lap. Some of his hair forms a curtain down your thighs; some of it sticks to his forehead, to his flushed lips. In another protective gesture – you know he’ll hate it, but you can’t help it – you gently brush the hair away from his face. As he falls down from the peak of his orgasm, he closes his eyes, relaxes his face. He looks so soft, so much like stray cat. _Does he ever get lonely?_

Your face heats up, even though no one can read your thoughts. You know why that was the first question to pop into your head. From personal experience, you know the biggest pitfall of being independent, of belonging only to yourself: loneliness.

 

Bucky is better at masking his vulnerability than you are. You tend to rely on people – Steve – as a mask, to hide your loneliness from yourself. But people always go away in the end.

 

_Always? I hope not. I hope I find someone, one day, who stays…_

 

You caress Bucky’s metal arm, needing to feel him but afraid of how he’ll react if he feels your caress. All human are vulnerable; all humans need masks sometimes. Steve is human too. What is he masking?

 

_A fetish for threesomes, obviously._

You know at least a part of you is just as wild as Bucky. But you also know you’ll starve to death without some form of security or commitment. _How can I choose between two things I need?_

Both men fill you, yet leave you feeling empty in some way. Steve makes you feel secure, yet can’t fuck you ruthlessly; Bucky makes you feel more desired than anyone ever has before, yet can’t stick around long enough to make love to you every day.

 

The temporary solution, of course, is both. Even though you can’t help but feel that’s the greediest and selfish solution of them all. _Am I capable of having two boyfriends? Will Bucky let me have an extra boyfriend? What will Steve think? How long can it last?_

 

Steve murmurs your name in a concerned tone. He’s cleared the fluid from his lips. He’s sitting right beside you. You almost leap out of your skin – you were so trapped in your own thoughts that you didn’t realize how close he’d gotten. He cups your jaw and brushes his thumbs under your eyes. When they come away wet, you gasp.

 

“What’s wrong?” he asks you, his eyes soft.

 

You gulp. Deep breath. You glance over at Bucky, who looks half-asleep and is rolling onto his elbows. He’s eyeing Steve with a half-smirk, looking way too comfortable given the atmosphere in the room.

 

You look down into your lap – well, you meant to, but you got distracted by Steve’s lap. Your eyes focus on his wilting erection. You choke out a sob, then clasp a hand over your mouth, your face heating up from displaying this much emotion at such an inappropriate time. _I killed the mood, I killed Steve’s erection – I don’t belong here._ “I can’t do this. I know this is what you want, these…” You can’t bring yourself to say the word _threesome_ , so you just gesture at the three of you. “but --”

 

Steve’s hands drop into his lap. “You think this is what _I_ want?” His voice is quiet, but his brows sink over his eyes. “I did this for you.”

 

“But I never -- Wait, are you saying this was _your_ idea?” Your jaw pops open. “What would make you think…?”

 

Steve’s shoulders sink. He averts his gaze.

 

“You swallowed a bucket of cum because you think that’s what I wanted?” You raise your voice, hoping your exaggeration sounds ridiculous enough to cover up your hurt and confusion. “I thought you did that because you wanted to. You didn’t do anything you were uncomfortable with just for me, did you?” You feel like crying and face-palming at the same time. _Oh, Steve, why?_

“A man of his word. Oh-ho, Steve.” Bucky’s still smirking.

 

You glare at Bucky. He looks so smug, you just want to slap him. “What?” you say, maybe just a little too bitchily. You’re sick of him acting like he knows something you don’t.

 

“Why don’t you give Steve a call? Maybe that’ll answer some questions.”

 

“ _What_?” You don’t have time for this. You’re two seconds away from shoving Bucky out of your house. You don’t care if he’s a hundred times stronger than you.

 

“Bucky.” Steve gives him a warning look.

 

“Ste-eve.” Bucky mocks his tone. He gets up off the bed and looks at the pile of clothes.

 

Steve puts his hand up. “Okay. I’ll… I”ll do it.”

 

You stare at Steve. You feel like your skin is going explode from frustration, until you register the look that Steve has on his face.

 

You can’t help but feel like the house is about to come crashing down. You want to shake his shoulders and say, _don’t do this to me._

Everything’s in slow motion. Steve’s lips parting. His chest rising.

 

_Oh my God – He’s going to say he loves me – He’s going to break up with me – He has fifteen adopted children all living in a box in Mongolia – He owns every season of_ Jersey Shore _on DVD – He’s…_

“I lost my phone.”

 

You stare at him. “You already told me that.”

 

“Yes.” Steve clasps his hands together and starts picking at his cuticle. “But I didn’t tell you where I lost it. I was…”

 

As if on cue, the _Avengers_ theme starts playing. It’s Steve’s ringtone.

 

Your shoulders relax. “You left it at my house?”

 

Steve’s face doesn’t change. Your shoulders tense up again.

 

He slowly turns his head toward the pile of clothes. Warily, you follow his gaze, half-expecting the clothes to burst into flames.

 

“You gonna get that?” Bucky asks. When Steve doesn’t move, Bucky lunges forward into the pile of clothes. “Then I will.” Bucky completely bypasses Steve’s jeans. He reaches into the pocket of his own leather pants.

 

He pulls out Steve’s phone.

 

The phone goes quiet, as if it knows it’s in trouble.

 

“Oh, well, maybe they’ll leave a voicemail.” Bucky looks at Steve and shoots him a coy smile, his head turned away slightly. He wiggles the phone in his hand and then tosses it to Steve.

 

Steve catches it and leaps off the bed, hurling himself at Bucky. He looks like he’s going to whip the phone at Bucky, before realizing it’s _his phone._ “You said you’d let me do it,” Steve thunders, his face an inch away from Bucky’s.

 

Bucky’s laughing. “I didn’t mean for it to ring.”

 

Your body un-freezes enough for your jaw to start moving. “You left it in his _pants_?”

 

“No, I put it in my pants,” Bucky answers, sounding like he knows how _not_ helpful that is.

 

You’re practically shaking. You feel tiny, even though your eyes are burning and your head’s about to explode. “Why --? _P_ _ants_ \--?” is all you manage to say.

 

Steve puts his hand on Bucky’s chest, as if in attempt to push him away and get him to shut up at the same time. He looks at you, eyes pleading. “I left it at his house.”

 

There’s no more blood in your vessels. Your heart is gasping, empty. Your mouth is open.

 

“Be more specific,” Bucky plies.

 

Steve’s hand drops from his chest. “On his nightstand.”

 

You’re not there anymore. You’re nothing. You’re a speck of dust on the bed waiting to be vacuumed up.

 

“I never wanted you to get hurt.” Steve sits on the bed in front of this speck of dust. “When Bucky came over tonight, he was going to tell you. I didn’t want you to find out like that. I knew I had to tell you, I just wasn’t sure…” He looks down. “I know I’m not enough for you.”

 

You shake your head. “Don’t say that.”

 

“Tonight didn’t go the way I thought it would. I thought it’d be a good idea. I want you to be happy.”  He’s hiding his face from you. All you can see is the top of his head. “And I want to know who I am.”

 

“Steve.” You lean forward and wrap your arms around his shoulders. He puts his face on your shoulder and his arms around your waist. In an instant, your shoulder feels wet. You’re still in shock. You don’t know what to say, and neither does he.

 

“I’m sorry.” He sounds tiny.

 

You squeeze him harder. “I love you.”

 

He raises his head. He looks at you, questioning and disbelieving. “You do?”

 

You nod. “I fucking hate you right now, but, yeah. I don’t care who you are, you’re still my best friend, you know.”

 

He squeezes you back and pulls you into him so your face rests against his chest. “I love you, too.”

 

You hear the door squeak open. You snap your head up. Bucky’s got his clothes on and is heading out the door. “Wait,” you blurt before you can stop yourself. But Bucky doesn’t even give you as much as a single glance. You rest your head against Steve’s chest, listening to his heartbeat with one ear and Bucky’s fading footsteps with the other ear.

 

You hear the echo of the front door slamming shut.

 

He’s gone. Your chest collapses. With relief. With disappointment. With longing.

“You’re not with Bucky, are you?” you ask.

Steve chokes out a laugh. “No. No way. Well, I was. A long time ago.” He shakes his head, looking exhausted. “He’s no good, but sometimes I can’t resist him. But it’s over, it’s been over for a while. I need someone who’s good for me. I wanted that person to be you, but…”

 

“It’s okay.” You give him an understanding look. It’s all so fresh, saying the word would just lacerate the wound even more.

 

“I meant it when I said you’re beautiful.”

 

You smile, and it feels so good. “I know. And I forgive you. I know Bucky can be… hard to resist sometimes.”

 

Steve’s eyes darken. “Are you going to…?”

 

You search him for a moment, then balk. “No,” you say emphatically. “I’m like you, I’m done with him. Actually, I think I need to be on my own for a while. Be more independent.”

 

Steve nods. “If you ever get lonely, I’m always here for you.”

 

You smile. There isn’t a trace of anything but innocence in his words. “I think I’ll be okay.” You’re surprised by how brave you sound. _Is that me talking?_

 

Yeah. _I guess it is._

Steve’s stomach grumbles, long and low. His cheeks turn pink.

 

You can’t help it – you giggle. His face is priceless.

 

“Maybe we shouldn’t have ignored that pizza guy,” Steve says.

 

“Yeah, maybe.”

 

He smiles. As he puts his clothes back on, he gives you a look, like he doesn’t quite believe that you’ve forgiven him. “I’ll call you tomorrow?”

 

“Yeah.” You avert your gaze just a second too early.

After you’ve dressed, you walk Steve to the front door. Before he leaves, he gives you a single warm, comforting kiss on the cheek.

 

You have to close your eyes. You still crave him.

 

But you have to be strong.


	9. Over and Over (Epilogue)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD.

You're watching the fourth season of Orange is the New Black. The final episode ends and you realize the sun has almost gone down. Finishing all the episodes of a show on Netflix makes part of you feel a sense of accomplishment and another part of you feel pleasurable disappointment. Yeah, as if you like feeling hollow, like an empty horizon. Maybe a milk jug feels relieved when it doesn't have to carry anything anymore--it's just a jug then.  
  
You go to switch on a lamp beside your couch, but two blue beams of headlights peek through your front window.  
  
A car pulls up. Probably just someone using your driveway to turn around. You don't look out the window in case the car has a Domino's symbol on the roof. Your stomach grumbles.  
  
_If I fall asleep fast enough, I won't notice I'm hungry._ You get up and start walking to your bedroom, past the front door.  
  
Someone knocks at the door.  
  
Last night you got a wrong number from Pizza Hotline. You'll just have to tell this other pizza guy that, sorry, this is not the house you're looking for.  
  
A deep male voice calls your name from the other side. You freeze. You know that voice.  
  
You're wearing flannel pj bottoms and a tank top, but it'll have to do. You read in a dating advice book that men get turned on by chicks in pajamas. The book was written by a woman, though.  
  
You open the door before you can change your mind. His all-black outfit hits you like so much darkness all the lamps in the world can't brighten. His tall frame and broad shoulders shield you from the breeze. There's yesterday's five o'clock shadow chilling on his strong jawline. The sunset paints a burning orange line around his metal arm. He's aged two years but he still looks perfect. He leans forward a bit and looks around your house over your head. A lock of long, dark hair falls in front of his eye.   
  
"You're home alone," he says. There is so much you could read into his tone: teasing, longing. Maybe not. His mouth is a hard line.  
  
You try to muster as much anger as possible. You need to sound believable. "Not anymore." You look him up and down, unable to resist the urge and hoping he doesn't notice.  
  
His eyes flash and your heart stops. "I never heard from you."  
  
Your mouth almost pops open. "I never heard from you, what was I supposed to think?"  
  
He runs a hand through his hair and turns to the side, exhaling. "Why is this so complicated?" he says, almost to himself.  
  
You step outside, trying to avoid brushing against him, and close the door. You want to ask him, why now? But you just look up at him, all the questions getting stuck in your throat.  
  
He puts his gloved metal hand on the door behind you, showcasing his muscular arm. The gesture feels territorial, but he's probably just exhausted. He looks down at you, eyebrows furrowed, as if he's trying to hard to mask the hurt.  
  
Anger as a mask for pain. Your chest rises and falls with your breaths. The two of you are more similar than you'd like to admit, and maybe that's why the two of you keep meeting up like magnets. There have been other guys the past couple years, sure. The friendship with Steve is still there, although you only see each other once every couple months. It's hard to get over someone when you see them all the time. As for the other men who have come and gone, it's like the way you read magazines when you're on the go, when you really just want to snuggle in bed with your favourite book. Have you occupied the same mental real estate with Bucky?  
  
"Only friends are allowed to show up at my house unannounced," you say. If you push him away for good, he'll never come back and maybe you'll have a chance of healing.  
  
His other, bare hand comes up and presses against the door beside your head. You almost wince but steel yourself. Part of you wishes Steve would come and rescue you, but another part of you relishes the independence. You can handle this, and it ends tonight.  
  
"I never wanted to be your friend," he says.  
  
You try not to let your face fall. "Then what do you want?" Your voice sounds a little helpless and you hate it.  
  
He leans back, chest rising with his inhale. His bare hand slips away from the door. You cross your arms in front of you, ready to hold yourself when he turns around and heads back to his car.  
  
He takes your hand. "I'm sorry." He brings it to his lips.  
  
The apology sounds genuine. His lips are soft against your skin and you're flooded with memories of what they felt like against other parts of you.  
  
You pull away. He's so strong, you know the only reason you were able to take your hand back was because he let it. "And?" Part of you needs to test him; you wish the two of you had been an item for the past two years.  
  
He looks up at the cloudless sky, then back down at you. You've never met anyone who uses silence so effectively. His expression says, _are you going to let me finish?_  
  
"Sorry," you say. A breeze kisses your bare arms and you shiver. His hard, bare hand rubs your soft upper arm. He moved so quickly, as if it was a reflex rather than a conscious decision. There's a rare gentleness in the gesture. Maybe he is trying.  
  
Vulnerability threatens to crack his hard gaze. "I want you. And I'll do anything to have you. To keep you." He takes your hand. "Stay here. Hold the door open. I have a surprise."  
  
A little astonished, you hesitate. He turns around and walks to his car, so you open your door. You hear his trunk open. When you turn around, he's carrying two overstuffed black duffel bags. He carries them into your house and he makes a beeline for your bedroom.  
  
"What are those?" you ask. You wonder if he's going to set up some sort of S &M swingset in your bedroom.  
  
"I'm moving in."  
  
You stand there for a full minute until he comes back to get more bags. "Uh, what?"  
  
He pauses on his way to the door. "This place is a rental. I'll pay the rent."  
  
You try to figure out how to reason with someone who's so stubborn. "It's not that simple."  
  
"Fake it till you make it, dollface. Life only gets simple when we make it that way."  
  
You're not strong enough to pick up his bags and toss them back outside. You try not to enjoy the sight of his muscles flexing as he carries the heavy bags to your room. He jogs back outside and you watch his perfectly round leather-encased ass, kicking yourself internally. Fuck, he's hot.  
  
He grabs one last item--a cardboard box with enough duct tape slapped on it to suggest that he probably opts for gift bags rather than wrapping paper at Christmas--and slams the lid of the empty trunk. He jogs toward your kitchen and you close the front door.   
  
"Call the cops, doll," he calls from the kitchen. Your cell is in your pocket. If you really wanted him to leave, you guess you probably wouldn't be letting him walk into your life like this.   
  
You hear his footsteps heading to your bedroom and you follow him, your own footsteps lighter than his. One of his duffel bags is lying out in the hall.  
  
His leather shirt is laying on the floor. He's lying on your bed, his legs over the edge and his arms on your pillows. You avert your gaze before you're tempted to look at the somewhat painful-looking line where his metal arm meets his torso. And of course his pectoral muscles--  
  
"Couch," is all you manage to say.  
  
He sits up and starts laughing at you. This man who has decided that your house belongs to him now.  
  
"Catch," he says, his hand dipping into his pocket.  
  
You catch a box that's about the same size as the dwarf hamster you took care of as a kid. The box is soft like a hamster, too. You open the box before you can talk yourself out of it. Inside is a little rose gold--  
  
And then he's standing over you, his bare chest emanating the most delicious scent. "Simple." He pulls the little--circle--from the box and takes your hand. He just takes it, not asking, again as if he makes up his mind and then expects you to come along for the ride.  
  
It's a little like getting swept up in a current. There's a waterfall dangerously close, you know it, but you're not afraid of falling off the edge. You're afraid of crashing at the bottom.  
  
He meets your eye when he feels your body tense. "It ain't meant to fit me, doll."  
  
You maintain eye contact while he slips it on your ring finger.  
  
"Now you're mine," he says.  
  
You look down. It's actually a cute ring. The little square diamond is set like a diamond Shreddie and there are teeny diamonds all around it like leaves on an Elven queen's crown.  
  
You decide it's too late to try to push him away. It's not like it's ever been effective. "It's actually really pretty," you admit, and it takes a lot of strength to just be vulnerable with him. You feel like you're going to faint.  
  
He sweeps his arms under your legs and back and carries you, princess-style. He doesn't throw you onto the bed; he just holds you, his eyes sweeping across your body before resting on your lips.   
  
You consider ripping all the duct tape off that box in the kitchen and using it to seal your door so he can't abandon you again. But maybe this time he's serious. His eyes are so beautiful; you want so badly to trust him, because it feels more natural than breathing.  
  
He breathes your name. "Will you m--?"  
  
Your stomach growls.  
  
He pauses.  
  
"Sorry, I'm just hungry. I haven't eaten in like six hours." You place a hand on your abdomen self-consciously.  
  
He raises his eyebrows slightly, as if to say, _six hours?_  
  
If he doesn't finish his sentence, you'll probably cry in frustration. You want to tell him to continue but you also know it's useless. You can't boss this man around.  
  
"Marry me," he finishes. You gape at him, astonished. So this is what a marriage proposal feels like. It's like he took a giant axe and buried it in your life, one side pre-marriage proposal and the other side post-.  
  
He throws you on your bed.  
  
"Bucky! I haven't said yes yet."  
  
He swaggers over and prowls up your body, straddling you. The waistband of your well-loved flannel pants is no match for his hands. He drops his head within an inch of the small layer of fabric that separates his mouth from your pelvis. He smiles, a dangerous almost-evil shining proudly in his eyes.   
  
A bizarre kind of panic melts you to the bed. You run your left hand through his wild hair, the moon light glinting off the rose gold and his left arm. For the first time, it feels simple.  
  
"You will," he says.


End file.
